


you're the closest thing to heaven (the earth has ever shown)

by kekinkawaii



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 05:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii
Summary: Dirk Gently is an angel. No, actually.But he’s not a particularly good one, so it comes as quite the surprise when he gets assigned a prayer. Especially when said prayer turns out to be a plea, one that asks for Todd Brotzman to be… happier. What the hell does that even mean?Todd is a headache wrapped in an enigma, but Dirk is adamant to make him crack. With the help of Todd’s sister, Dirk uncovers facts about Todd’s troubling past, but how much of what Amanda knows is true? Not only that, Dirk's own less-than-idyllic history is rapidly creeping up on the two of them. Dirk’s going to need a lot more Post-It notes for this.





	you're the closest thing to heaven (the earth has ever shown)

**Part One ** _(got a nervous feeling in my belly, I can't seem to let it go)_

Let it never be said that Dirk Gently wasn't grateful. How could he not be, after everything that had happened—after everything Zachariah had done for him?

After all, heaven was—well—heaven. No pain (unless you were a masochist), no tears (unless you were a sadist). Nothing. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the afterlife Dirk lived.

But, _bloody hell, _it was boring.

So it really wasn’t a surprise that, when Zachariah made a special request to visit, he found himself unable to keep from bouncing on the heels of his feet, his wings flapping near-deliriously in the air; flitting from room to room despite it being totally unnecessary (he could most likely refurnish the entire room with a single thought and the flutter of a feather), repainting the walls and rearranging the furniture over and over, jumping at every sound that had the potential to be a knock on the door.

When said sound actually turned out to be a knock on the door, Dirk jumped and turned one-eighty degrees in the air, stubbed his toe on the corner of a table leg, yelped, and hobbled over to greet Zachariah.

“Hello, Dirk,” Zachariah said when the door was opened. He quirked an eyebrow at Dirk, who was holding onto his big toe on his left foot with both his hands and cursing under his breath.

“Hi,” Dirk said, releasing his foot. “Are you here to free me from my eternal misery and pain?”

Dirk had never seen Zachariah roll his eyes, but Dirk imagined that if he were to partake in such an expression, now would be the time for him to do so. “My directions for you to manifest your physical form was three days ago. Not so eternal, I would think.”

Having no good comeback to a statement like that, Dirk grumbled something deliberately incomprehensible and pouted. “You still haven’t told me _why. _So are you here to free me from my _three days’ _misery and pain?”

“I’m afraid not,” Zachariah responded. “I’m here to assign you a prayer.”

Dirk, who had been wiggling his toe, marvelling at the tingling and slight throbbing sensation that, even after three days, he had yet to grow used to, immediately froze.

Zachariah drew his hand into his coat and pulled out a cream-coloured manilla folder. After flipping through it casually, unaware of Dirk’s current state of shock, he picked out a laminated sheet from the middle of the pile and handed it to Dirk, who took it and read it, more out of instinct than anything else.

**CHARGE:** Todd Brotzman

**LOCATION:** 515 Ridgely Lane, Springborough, Seattle, United States

**DATE ASSIGNED**: 17 August 2019

**SUPPLICANT:** Amanda Brotzman

**SUPPLICANT’S RELATIONSHIP WITH CHARGE:** Younger sister

**PRAYER: ** _Todd’s been working himself to the bone lately. Is there any way to, like, make him happier or something? Just—happier, that’s it. That would be really great. Thanks._

**PRAYER ASSIGNED TO:** Dirk Gently

**TIME ALLOCATED:** 2 months

“Oh my god,” Dirk squeaked out, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. (Maybe the air _was _thinner up here.)

Zachariah stopped, inclined his head. “Yes?”

Instead of dissipating, the tingle in his toes spread until he felt the thrum through his whole body. “You’re saying—” Dirk spoke haltingly, scarcely believing what he had heard. “I have a _prayer? _Assigned to _me?”_

Zachariah studied Dirk’s astonishment for a moment. “That is precisely what I am saying.”

Dirk was certain he was gaping. “But I’m not—”

Zachariah hushed him sternly. “None of that. You are an angel, Dirk Gently, and this is a prayer assigned to you. You know what we say around here.”

“Everything is connected,” Dirk mumbled obediently, though he couldn’t keep a shred of frustration from his voice.

Zachariah nodded. “Shall we continue?”

Dirk nodded back, more out of habit than anything, his mind still stuck in a continuous loop of _prayer _and _assigned _and _to him._

Zachariah smiled again. “Excellent. Now, as I was saying, your charge is Todd Brotzman. Your assignment, as told by his sister’s prayer: to make him happier.”

“What?” Dirk said helplessly.

Zachariah seemed to expect his confusion. “Those were her exact words: ‘make Todd happier’.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Dirk said. “Make him happier? What do you mean?”

“That is a question you must find the answer to yourself,” Zachariah said in that stupid, enigmatic way he sometimes did that drove Dirk absolutely insane.

“OK,” Dirk said slowly. “How?”

“With whatever method you wish to approach.”

Dirk ignored the answer that wasn’t even an answer. “Why _me?”_

“Because the prayer was assigned to you.”

_“Why?”_

“Dirk,” Zachariah said, “you know the process of a prayer. Holistic connections are constantly being interwoven throughout the matrix of the universe. It’s far too complex for us to even begin to grasp. ”

Dirk pulled a face. “So basically, you don’t know.”

Zachariah smiled ruefully. “So basically, I don’t know.”

Dirk ran an agitated hand through his hair and fought the urge to spring out his wings and fly away.

Prayers were far from rare—thousands to millions a day, assigned to angels everywhere and anywhere, from the most mundane task to the perceived impossible. But what _was _rare was _Dirk _being assigned one. Dirk know he was far from the average angel. He didn’t like to think about it much. Zachariah should’ve known that the most—couldn’t he have pushed the assignment for someone else? Mona, maybe? Mona was an excellent angel. She had recently answered the prayer of a businessman to catch his flight before he was late for an international meeting, and followed that on the heels by leading a lost kitten home from where it had wandered away. Dirk had spent the past year debating on the best colour of beige for his countertop that would accompany the wall, and he hadn’t even decided yet.

“I can’t do it!” he wailed dramatically.

Zachariah levelled him with a steady look. “Yes, you can.”

And Dirk knew, in the end, that it would be futile—a prayer was a prayer, and an assigned prayer was more than just that—it was a designation, an honour, a task that would send most angels fluttering with pride. But Dirk wasn’t—he couldn’t possibly succeed. He was clumsy, awkward, bumble headed. He couldn’t even build the angel equivalent of an IKEA cabinet.

Dirk turned his gaze into a wide-eyed, puppy-dog pleading. “Can’t you come with me?”

“You know I can’t.”

Dirk began to pace in circles. He waved his hands wildly, limbs flailing. “I don’t know this, this _Todd, _I don’t know how to make him happy—I don’t even know how to be _human!”_

“You will,” Zachariah said, his voice full of conviction. “It has been decided, and so it will be.”

“Bollocks!”

At that, Zachariah lost a bit of his stony professionalism. His face softened and he regarded Dirk with a warmth that Dirk felt through his wall of panic, like a calm wave smoothing through his body.

“Dirk,” Zachariah said softly, “Believe me when I say that you, out of all the angels out there—out of all the humans out there—have the best chance of making Todd Brotzman happy. You have been allocated a time of two months. You will go to Earth. You will get to know your charge, and you will learn what makes him happy. I have full faith in you that you will succeed.”

Dirk began to speak, but stopped and swallowed haltingly. He stopped pacing and turned to face Zachariah fully.

“What if I can’t?” he said, his voice a mumble.

“You will,” Zachariah said simply.

“What if I _don’t?” _Dirk said, voice rising with frustration. Figures that his first-ever prayer, his first-ever designation, would be such a _confusing, _such a _difficult _prayer to answer. To make someone happy—what did that even mean? How could he go about defining and grasping a concept like an emotion, something intangible, something that couldn’t be mapped out and analyzed?

“If you don’t,” Zachariah finally answered, “you can call in a favour, and I will come to you.”

Dirk hesitated, halted, chewed on his lip.

“I…” He sighed. “Okay. Okay, I will.”

Something that looked like pride rose in Zachariah’s grey eyes. “Excellent. You remember how to appear on the metaphysical plane?”

That was one thing he could do.

“You remember the rules?”

Do not reveal yourself as an angel unless absolutely necessary. Do not teleport unless absolutely necessary. Your task is to answer a prayer, and nothing else. Do not willingly partake in any distractions, deviations, or complications. “I do.”

“You should already be fairly adept to the feeling of pain by now, or at least have experienced it.”

“I—so that’s why you’ve…” Dirk said, understanding dawning.

Zachariah made a noise of acknowledgement. “I believe you are ready to go.”

“Wait!” Dirk said. “I know this isn’t your job, but—could you please? Give me some advice. I don’t know—how do I even answer a prayer like this? How do I _make _someone happy?”

Zachariah thought for a moment before he spoke.

“The time and date is July 15th, 2019. Much has changed since the last time you have observed Earth. Their world is very different from ours, both the people and the technology. I encourage you to enjoy it. Take some time to appreciate things for the way they are. You are someone who delights in the small details, and it will benefit to bring these gratitudes to the attention of Todd Brotzman. One last thing: this may be difficult to accept, but it will inevitably come of use. You and Todd Brotzman have more in common than you think. Keep that in mind.”

Zachariah reached out and brushed the dust off from the collar of Dirk’s canary yellow jacket. “That is all the advice I have to give. The rest, you will figure out on your own.”

Dirk’s head was in a whirl, the past five minutes sending his thoughts cascading. He desperately tried to keep Zachariah’s words in his head, etching it into his memory.

“If something happens,” Dirk began hesitantly, for one last time, “something serious, something dangerous—life-threatening, even—I am able to return to Heaven?”

“Of course,” Zachariah said. “And remember, Dirk, although I am forbidden from interfering, I will always be looking over you.” His eyes turned stormy grey, serious as stone.

Dirk nodded, solemn. He turned around, glanced at his home—neon-orange countertop and navy blue wallpaper, newly redecorated—and turned back with a fresh surge of determination. “I’m ready to go.”

Zachariah’s hand was firm and warm on his shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck.”

As Dirk prepared himself to enter the metaphysical plane, his wings shimmering out of sight and the world around him fading away, he heard Zachariah’s last words as an echo in his head, and used it as ammunition to solidify his resolve. This—this _Todd Brotzman. _He was going to make him happy. He was going to freaking _drown _him in happiness.

“I’ve got this,” he murmured to himself, and touched down on Earth.

-+-+-+-

There were only so many things going wrong that Todd could take in a day before he went insane.

Case in point, this morning: he put the coffee disk into his Tassimo the wrong way around, creating a spill over his countertop that he’d deemed too early in the morning to deal with and ignored. This afternoon: he had gotten stuck in line behind a teenager who insisted her cappuccino was not frothed milk, but steamed, and demanded a replacement that caused a scalded patch of skin on the back of his hand. An hour ago: he had returned from work only to find that the spilled coffee from the morning had dried into a giant beige splotch on his expensive marble countertop. Insanity would be a welcome distraction.

It would also explain the man in the hideously-yellow patch jacket who had been pacing back and forth in front of his apartment door for the past twenty minutes.

Todd wiped his hands on a damp dishtowel, grimacing at the texture, then walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. Nope, still there.

Todd took a deep breath, and opened the door. “What do you want?” he said.

The man jumped two solid feet in the air and yelped. He landed with his back to the door and spun around on one heel, flailing a little.

He blinked at Todd wildly, his mouth closing and opening. Todd blinked back.

The man’s hair was neatly combed, and (other than the colour) his attire clean and sharp. He didn’t seem insane. But then again, serial murderers didn’t walk around covered in their victims’ blood all the time. That would ruin the whole point of serial murdering.

“So d’you wanna sell me something or…” Todd said.

The man gave Todd a scrutinizing, thorough once-over, and then just _beamed, _his entire face breaking into a grin so wide it looked like it hurt. Todd fought the instinctual urge to back up a step.

_“Todd!” _the man said enthusiastically, and, _woah, _first of all, he had a posh as hell British accent, where did that come from? and second of all—right, so he knew his name.

Todd felt oddly detached, the alarm he was feeling foreign and faraway. He’d just spent an hour scrubbing every square inch of his countertop with Crest whitening toothpaste. This was fine.

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

The man blinked rapidly several times in succession and said, “Shit.”

Todd waited patiently for an answer. When one didn’t come, he crossed his arms and waited some more.

The other man seemed perfectly content to remain frozen. He was staring a little. Todd raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a—” the man stuttered. “I’m a… cab… driver.”

“A cab driver,” Todd repeated.

“Yes!” Todd watched in amazement as the man regained all his flamboyant confidence in the span of a split second. “I’m a cab driver! I’m _very _good, trust me,” he reassured.

“I didn’t order a cab,” Todd said.

“No?” the man said. “Um, well, Todd. This is your lucky day! You have won a free cab ride.”

“Uh-huh,” Todd said. “I’m sorry, I really don’t have the time for this.” He started to close the door.

Right as he was doing so, he saw a hand shoot out in between the door jamb and the door frame. The momentum kept him from stopping, and as the door slid shut he heard a loud, pained yelp.

“Shit! Sorry!” he said, quickly opening the door.

The man, who had been rubbing at his fingers with a wince, immediately perked up. _“Aha!” _

He dropped his hand, shaking it absently, beamed again at Todd and, in three quick strides, entered his apartment. 

Todd stared at where the man used to be and then at where he was now, which was in his kitchen, in his apartment. Again, that oddly-detached feeling rose up in him.

He turned to follow the man who had just broke into his apartment, and wondered faintly if he just pretended to slam his hand in the door for Todd to open it again or if he just did it for real. Somehow, the latter wouldn’t surprise him.

“You have a very nice home,” the man commented. He was turning in circles in the middle of Todd’s kitchen.

“Thanks,” Todd said.

The man sniffed the air. “Why does it smell so minty? Are you making something?”

“No,” Todd said. Maybe this was a reality TV show. It would definitely explain a lot of things. Todd expected any second now for the man to jump up, spin around, scold him for having the wrong colour scheme and feng shui setup, and coerce him into paying twenty thousand dollars in home decor and painting tape.

“Did you know,” the man said, absently running a finger across the countertop, oblivious to Todd’s internal turmoil, “that there is a type of mint called Corsican mint that is so small that many mistaken it for _thyme?”_

“What?” Todd said.

“I know, _right?!” _the man said, whirling around to face Todd. He held up a single finger and said, “And, also, there are over _twelve _different species of mint! There’s chocolate mint, apple mint, lemon mint—the list goes on.”

Todd said, “Okay.”

The man beamed again. “I’m Dirk,” he said. “Dirk Gently.”

“Todd,” Todd said, before he remembered that this Dirk somehow knew his name already—and that wasn’t something that he was supposed to just slip, what the hell? He felt betrayed by his own face, which had instinctively and rebelliously pulled itself into some form of a smile in response to such an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm. Seeing this only made Dirk grin even wider.

Todd clamped down on the urge to smile back even more (call and response, monkey see monkey do; he was so done with this day that he had devolved to the most basic of instincts, apparently—Jesus, what was it with this guy?).

“OK,” he said, “Look, I really can’t be bothered today. Can’t you go choose someone else?”

Dirk cocked his head like an over-inquisitive puppy. “What?” 

“Go away,” Todd said lamely.

Dirk’s smile turned confused. “What?”

Todd gritted his teeth and looked away. “Listen, man, I’m not—I don’t care what this is, alright? Some… show or contest or whatever. I don’t care. I won’t be good for it. Trust me. Just—try someone else. Down the hall, maybe.” His neighbours seemed intent on having loud, athletic sex every night at four in the morning. That would definitely make an interesting show.

Dirk stuck out his bottom lip in an amalgam between a frown and a pout. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Todd threw his arms up in the air. “Why do I feel like the situations are reversed here?” He pointed a finger at Dirk. “You! I don’t even know who you are!”

“I’m Dirk Gently,” Dirk said, blinking owlishly. “I thought I’d told you that already.”

“Yeah, well, I know Julius Caesar’s name, too; doesn’t mean I know jackshit about him.”

Dirk seemed to think about this. After a moment, his face brightened. “Then we’ll just get to know each other better!”

“Wh—” Todd gaped. “No! What the hell? Who are you? _Why are you here?”_

Dirk yelped and raised his hands, wincing at the rising octaves of Todd’s voice. “I can explain!”

“You better,” Todd said, feeling indignation rise in him as his mind finally fully caught up to the situation on hand. “And do it quickly before I call the cops on you.”

Dirk yelped again. “Okay, okay.”

He took a deep breath and said, slowly and theatrically, accent in full force, “I’m not actually a cab driver.”

Todd paused, then said, “Wow. No shit?”

“No shit,” Dirk said solemnly, the sarcasm making a whooshing noise as it flew over his head.

Todd made a hopeless sort of noise and let his arms hang heavy from his sides. Who the fuck was this guy? “What do you want,” he said helplessly.

“I want you to be happy,” Dirk replied immediately, and Todd was going to get whiplash if this went on for any longer.

Dirk clasped his hands together and took on a determined look. “I’m here to help you, Todd Brotzman.” Okay, so he knew his last name too. Not alarming at all. 

Todd stared at Dirk’s stupidly-earnest eyes and smile and shiny yellow jacket and shook his head in bewilderment. “Is this some kind of a… Jehovah’s Witnesses thing?”

“Jehovah?” Dirk said. “I do know a Jehovah. What would I have witnessed from Jehovah?”

“Okay,” Todd said, and grabbed Dirk (what kind of name was that, anyway? He should’ve known it was a setup from the start) by the shoulders of his coat and started to push him towards the door. “Out you go. Ha, ha, you really got me there. Hope that was enough video footage.”

“What?” Dirk said, looking more confused by the second. He stumbled to regain his balance as Todd firmly plowed him out the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking,” Todd said, unrelenting, “about how you feel like it’s a good use of your time to make a fool out of yourself and others. This isn’t funny, Dirk—and that’s a stupid fake name, too; next time, try something less avant-garde.”

“Hey!” Dirk said. “That’s not a fake name!”

Todd hummed something in vague acknowledgement. They were almost at the door now. Just a few more seconds, and the world would revert to normalcy and all would be well.

When they were just a couple paces from the exit, where Todd was fully prepared to slam the door, smashed fingers or not— _fake _smashed fingers or not—Dirk suddenly planted his feet solidly on the floor. Todd redoubled his efforts, only to find that it was hopeless. It was like he had immediately gained a hundred pounds, his feet glued to the floor.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, halfheartedly shoving at Dirk’s shoulders.

“I’m not leaving,” Dirk said, jaw jutting out in a stubborn, grim look. “I won’t. I simply refuse. I _cannot.”_

There was something high-strung and wracked in his voice that was much too dramatic for a situation like this. At the last negative, his lip was nearly quivering.

Todd’s grip froze, hesitation clouding his anger.

Dirk noticed. “Please, Todd,” he said, “just let me explain.” His gaze transformed, turning wide and pleading and full-on puppy-eyed and, _fuck, _Todd couldn’t—

“What do you even want from me?” Todd muttered, dropping his arms and taking a step back, feeling some kind of bleak despair descend upon him. Those goddamn eyes—he should’ve learned better after years and years of terrible pitches, house-to-house salesmen, girl scouts selling cookies.

From the way Dirk froze, Todd thought that maybe he hadn’t expected him to agree. That, or he was a terrible planner and never thought ahead. Maybe both. Probably both.

“What makes you happy?” Dirk asked, weirdly and abruptly.

Todd paused. “Uh, might wanna be more specific.”

Dirk wrung his hands out in front of him. Todd felt the indescribable urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. He acknowledged this with resignation; it was all going downhill now, and it was only going to get steeper from here.

“Just—” Dirk seemed frazzled. “Whatever makes you happy. Is there somewhere we could go, maybe? Something you like to do?”

Todd narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you trying to get at?” When Dirk tensed up impossibly more, he raised a placating hand. “Calm down, man. Jesus. I’m just talking. Let me—lemme think for a second, okay?”

“Oh,” Dirk said, looking abashed. “Pardon me. Of course.”

Todd rubbed a hand across his forehead while Dirk watched him expectantly. “And stop staring at me.”

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t noticed.” Dirk kept staring, with more intensity than before. “It’s your eyes—they are _incredibly _blue. It’s _very _distracting.”

“Uh,” Todd said, “thanks?”

Dirk made a big show of turning around and staring at the wall. Todd watched him, and wondered once again what the fuck was going on. His best guess would be that it was some kind of reality TV show, from what Dirk had been saying— _whatever makes you happy _—seriously, what the hell? Maybe it was some progressive, evanglistical kind of thing where he’d go off on some shpleel about how true happiness was only found in the soul or some crap like that. If it was, Todd thought, they’d picked the wrong person.

It wasn’t like Todd wasn’t happy. He was just… dull. Some would consider him a workaholic, wet blanket, whatever. He tolerated it. It was a better situation than many.

That was only further proof that this man, this _Dirk Gently, _was barking up the wrong tree. Dirk, with his five-thousand watt smile and bright blue eyes and enthusiasm far too concentrated for anyone to be held accountable for; excitement packed inside a too-small vessel, spilling over with each dramatic hand gesture and bounce on his toes. He certainly fit the criteria of an overzealous reality TV host. But whatever he was trying to accomplish, he would not find it here.

“Okay,” Todd said. “I have a place in mind.”

Dirk jumped and spun around. “You do?”

Todd nodded. “Yeah. I’ll drive us there.” He paused, then decided to try his luck. “You know, you can just bring your camera crew out here in the open. I dunno how you’re filming it right now, but I won’t mind if they come out, promise.”

“Huh?” Dirk said. He tilted his head again.

Todd groaned. “Nevermind. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took the stairs, because he didn’t think he could handle one straight minute of standing still and doing nothing with Dirk bubbling over next to him. Dirk followed closely (a little too closely; Todd suspected that if he stopped walking suddenly Dirk would run right into him, and there was only a tiny bit of patience left in him that stopped him from doing just that) down the five spiraling floors, out the door, and all the way into the parking lot, the entire time going on and on about how he was so _happy _Todd decided to give this a chance, how he wouldn’t regret it, he promised. 

By the time Todd pulled out of the parking lot and onto the streets, he nearly felt guilty for what he was about to do. But, he reasoned, it would be for the best: Dirk would be forced to admit that Todd was an unsuitable candidate, and he’d go off and knock on some other unsuspecting stranger’s door, someone less dull, less not-unhappy-but-not-happy-either, and he’d whisk them away with his quirky childish charm and unrelenting friendliness and oddly endearing posh accent, and—well. Todd drummed his fingers against his steering wheel in a long-forgotten rhythm and sighed.

“While I _do _love surprises,” Dirk said from the passenger seat, “could you perhaps give me a hint?”

“Nah,” Todd said, after a moment. “You’ll know it when we get there.”

“Hmm,” Dirk said, and stared out the window. Todd counted ten seconds of blissful silence before he started speaking again. “Did you know that there are an unnatural number of pigeons in this city? Like, _totally _unnatural.” Todd shut his eyes for half a second before reopening them to the road.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Dirk took one look out the window and gasped. “It’s a carnival!”

“Country fair,” Todd supplied. “Pretty much the same thing, I guess.”

Dirk had the car door open and was out the vehicle before Todd even had the car fully parked.

“Oh my god,” he said, when Todd caught up to him. “Todd, this is _amazing. _Is this what makes you happy? Carnivals?”

Right, that happiness thing. “Yeah, sure,” Todd said.

Dirk beamed that blinding smile of his. Todd swallowed down another irrational ounce of guilt and began briskly walking towards the tickets concession. The quicker he got this done with, the better.

Handful of tickets in his hand, Todd watched as Dirk flitted from place to place, lit up with excitement. A rollercoaster caught his attention, and Todd was dragged over to the line.

He nodded absentmindedly as Dirk bounced off the walls, rambling on and on about the physics of a rollercoaster. He seemed, actually, incredibly informed. Part-time cab driver, part-time TV show host, part-time rollercoaster engineer. It was all very, very weird.

When they reached the front of the line, Todd hovered behind while he watched Dirk try not to bounce himself out of the seat with excitement while the assistant lowered his restraints.

“Todd, come on!” Dirk urged.

Todd swallowed, felt the guilt immediately ricochet back up, and spoke through it.

“It’s alright,” he said to the assistant. “I won’t be going.”

The woman looked confused. Dirk, even more so.

“Look,” Todd muttered, turning towards Dirk but not having it in him to look at him. “I’m really sorry, man, but—seriously, can’t you tell?” He waved a hand at himself helplessly. “I’m not the guy for this—whatever you’re doing.”

“Todd,” Dirk said slowly. “What are you doing?”

“This is a carnival,” Todd said, feeling a little bit of desperation edging into his words. He flung his hands out around him. “Look around! There are literally _hundreds _of people who are all perfectly happy. I’m sure they’d love to show you everything you wanna know. Me—you don’t want me, Dirk, I promise. I’ll fuck up your show—more than I have already.” His voice gradually descended from a shout to subdued speech. “Find someone else here, okay?”

“Todd—” Dirk started to say, but Todd was done, and if he lingered for any longer he might do something completely uncalled for and incredibly stupid like stay.

“Bye, Dirk,” he said. “It was nice meeting you.”

He turned around, and then remembered something and suddenly turned back.

“Oh, one more thing, sorry—” Digging through his pockets, he pulled out the wad of tickets and haphazardly threw them towards Dirk. “Here. Have fun. Go forth and—be happy. Whatever.”

He turned around again, and this time, he kept going.

-+-+-+-

The drive home was significantly longer, quieter, and lonelier than it had the right to be.

Todd sighed and kept driving. He did the right thing, he knew he did. Even with his relentless enthusiasm, Dirk wasn’t going to have a miracle with Todd. That is, if that was even his actual goal. On second thought, Todd didn’t think he saw a single video camera, and he hadn’t caught anything planted on him or Dirk either―not even an audio button recorder or even a mini-mic. Maybe Dirk was just―something. He didn’t know. But how on Earth did he know his name?

Todd breathed in deeply through his nose and let it out in a huff of air, feeling the dull throb that he thought had ebbed away surge back up in his temples. The possibilities were endless, he told himself. Social media stunt, public experiment, community project-slash-movement. They probably got his name from the landlord. Todd would talk to him later, then, figure out exactly what was going on, but for now, he just wanted to go home—wash the fucking toothpaste off his counter—and then go to bed.

He sighed again. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

Which was exactly the moment he heard a loud _thump _coming from the back of his car, accompanied by a very loud, very irritated, very posh voice saying, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

Todd glanced up at the rearview mirror and let out a very unmanly shriek.

“I mean, _what the hell?!” _Dirk had his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, indignant and grumpy. “Were you seriously about to ditch me? That is _not _cool.”

Todd took five fast, deep breaths, and pulled over to the side of the road next to a diner.

“Oh,” Dirk said, “are we having dinner?” He perked up. “Are you buying me an apology dinner? Because that will _definitely _work.”

Todd took another fast, deep breath, and turned around to face Dirk.

“How the fuck did you get into my car,” he said in a voice that was infinitely more calm than he was feeling at the moment.

Dirk froze.

“Tell me, or I call the cops.”

Dirk cringed. “Okay, okay,” he said quickly. “Um.” His eyes darted back and forth.

“The truth,” Todd said. “I’m not kidding. Tell me the fucking truth or I call right now.”

“Okay!” Dirk burst out.

Todd stilled, and waited.

Dirk blew out a breath, glanced up at the sky for a moment before glancing back down, and said, haltingly, in a voice so quiet Todd had to strain in order to hear, “I’m an angel.”

“Pull the other one,” Todd said.

“No, I _am.”_

“Yeah, no.” Todd pulled out his phone, feeling almost apologetic. Almost. “I gave you a chance, man.”

“No!” Dirk yelled, so sharply that Todd froze. When he spoke again, his voice had an underlying tremor to it, a barely-held energy. “I can prove it. I promise.”

Todd tipped his head back and stared up at the roof of his car and contemplated the decisions he’d made in life that led to this exact moment. “Sure. Whatever. Go ahead.”

There was a pause. “You have to be looking at me,” Dirk said, sounding frantic.

Todd swivelled in his seat and stared blankly at Dirk.

“Okay,” Dirk said. “Okay. Watch this.”

He closed his eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then—he began to _glow._

Todd’s eyes slowly widened.

Dirk was sitting in the back of his car, same yellow coat, same blue jeans—but there was some kind of _light _coming from him, like he was caught in the golden rays of a dying sunset, the edges of his silhouette tinted with a glow that had no apparent source.

Todd unbuckled his seat belt and scrambled across the cupholders. “Don’t move,” he warned, when Dirk made an odd noise and began to shift in his seat. “Don’t move. Just, keep doing that. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing that. And _don’t move.”_

Dirk made a half-protesting, half-confused noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t move.

Todd sat down with his legs folded underneath him awkwardly so that he was turned facing Dirk. He reached out a hand and touched Dirk’s shoulder.

It felt… _fuzzy. _Like how the buzzing sound of a static tv station would feel. Slightly warm, but almost felt like an aftertaste, the ghost of a sensation, feeling more like the thought, the _idea, _of warmth, rather than warmth itself.

Todd ran a hand down Dirk’s shoulder, then back up. He poked his cheek, and then cupped it with his hand. He scooted closer. In the proximity, he felt something else tugging at the edges—he couldn’t explain, it was impossible to explain—blips and waves and swirls of colour weaving their way into his awareness from his fingertips to his mind. There was anxious, lemon-lime green, the slightest irritated echo of dark maroon, the buzz of scarlet confusion, all swept over with a sunset orange and pink.

That was the nicest one, Todd thought, dazed, near-delirious. That soft sunset hue. It was gentle, and sweet, and it was so very warm.

Dirk made a squeaking noise. Todd jolted back into reality and realized that he had migrated closer until he was very nearly, now, sitting on Dirk’s lap.

“Fuck,” he said, jerking back and scrambling until his back was pressed against the handle of the car door. “Fuck, sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—fuck, Dirk, what the hell was that?”

Dirk opened his eyes and the glow faded away from his body, leaving only a slight pale flush that started high on his cheeks and continued down to his neck. Todd traced its path, and then tore his eyes away, heartbeat frantic and fast against his ribs.

“That,” Dirk said, his voice just a little scratchy, “was proof.” He cleared his throat. “You wanted me to prove that I’m an angel. That was me crossing over to the astral plane from the metaphysical plane. Had I gone fully over, you would’ve seen that glow about ten times the luminosity, and on a much larger scale. And then I would disappear, of course.” He shrugged. “Do you believe me now?”

Todd, for once, found himself at a complete loss of words.

“I could do it again,” Dirk offered, and then quickly added before Todd could speak, “But, if you please, could you not, um, touch that much. My astral form is… susceptible.”

Todd imagined his own face must be at least as red as Dirk’s, if not more. “No,” he said, completely mortified. “No, oh my god. It’s okay. I’m good. I believe you.”

The relief was clear as daybreak on Dirk’s face. “Okay,” he breathed out, the tension seeping from his features. “We’re good, then?”

“Yeah,” Todd said, and then, “wait, no. No. Absolutely not.”

He opened his mouth to find that the sudden onslaught of questions that had built up in his head in the matter of seconds had all surged to come out at the same time and as a result all gotten traffic jammed, so the only thing that came out was a gulping kind of sound. He coughed, cleared his throat, and tried again, only to have the same thing happen.

Dirk frowned. Todd held up a hand and waited a moment. One thing at a time. He could do this.

“You’re an angel,” he said slowly. “Okay. I can deal with that.” (He couldn’t, actually, but he’s done a fair share of lying to himself throughout his years, and he could be pretty convincing.) “But why did you come to me? And why did you try to trick me with some―some shitty reality tv show host setup?”

Dirk made an indignant noise. “I never said I was a reality tv show host!”

“Well, what the fuck was I supposed to think?”

“I said I was a cab driver!”

“And then you immediately told me you _weren’t actually a cab driver!”_

Dirk opened his mouth hotly, and then paused. “Good point.”

Todd muttered something he couldn’t quite decipher himself and scrubbed at his face with a hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to grant a prayer,” Dirk answered.

Todd frowned. “I’m not religious.”

“Not from you. _For _you.”

“What? From who?”

“Amanda Brotzman. Your sister, I believe.”

Todd shook his head, bewilderment clouding his thoughts. “What did she want? Money?”

Dirk looked at Todd with, oddly, a disapproving look. “No,” he said. “She asked for you to be _happy.”_

And that, ladies and gentleman, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Todd ran a hand through his hair, a weak laugh escaping from him. “Seriously,” he said, “you’ve already told me you’re an angel, it can’t get much worse than that. Tell me what you really want.”

“I just did!” Dirk cried out, throwing his arms up. They hit the car roof with a thud. He winced and retreated them. Todd just stared at him, drained of words like a dried-up well.

The thing was, there wasn’t any reason for Dirk to be lying anymore, was there? But there was no other explanation. The only other possibility, that he was, in fact, telling the truth, implied that not only did Amanda pray for Todd, she also prayed for him to be…

Todd shook his head again, violently. “No,” he said. “Even if you’re telling the truth―which is a really big if―I won’t accept it.”

Dirk’s voice was bewildered. “No,” he breathed, “you _can’t. _I’ve been assigned to you by the head of my garrison.”

“Your what now?”

“Zachariah,” Dirk said, “my higher-up. He’s assigned this prayer to me.”

“Well, you can tell him to shove it.” Todd said bluntly, “I don’t want this.”

“But this is my first assignment. I can’t fail it!”

“That’s too bad,” Todd said.

“No, please,” Dirk said desperately. “If I fail it, I―” Suddenly, his voice broke off.

He seemed to shrink, shoulder dropping, curling in as if he were trying to make himself smaller.

“Oh, dear,” he murmured, nearly to himself. “I knew I couldn’t do it. Why did he say I could do it?”

Todd watched as Dirk wrung his hands, murmuring to himself in a constant string of indecipherable words, distress evident. He felt his insides twist at the sight, and as Dirk’s breathing sped up until it finally hitched and his shoulders began to shake, he felt himself crumple.

“Okay, fine!” he said, quickly, borne out of sheer desperation. “I’ll do it!”

Dirk looked up. “I—” He began to say, but his breathing hitched again. He looked at him with eyes wide and flashing with panic, overly bright in the pale yellow light.

How long did he say he had been a human for?

Todd reached out, hesitating at the last moment, hands hovering like nervous birds, fluttering for a moment before finally landing on Dirk’s shoulders.

“Hey, Dirk,” he said. “Look at me. Look at me.”

Dirk’s eyes met Todd’s, wild and flickering.

“Good,” Todd soothed. “Now, breathe. With me, now. Come on, Dirk. In and out.”

Slowly, stutteringly, Dirk’s breathing evened out.

Todd kept his hands on his shoulders, keeping his breathing deep and steady, until he was sure Dirk had fully calmed down.

He squeezed Dirk’s shoulders gently. “You alright?” he said softly.

“I…” Dirk’s chest was still heaving, a rise-and-fall motion. “I don’t know what happened, I—”

“Hey,” Todd said, squeezing his shoulders again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. You’re okay. Did you have these, as an—as an angel?”

“No,” Dirk said. “Most definitely not.” He wiped a hand across his face and stared at the moisture that came off on his hand.

“How long have you been a human for?”

“About a day.”

“Well, that explains it,” Todd said. “You’re just adjusting.” He sighed—leave it to Dirk to turn into a hormonal teenager.

“Oh,” Dirk said, looking a little terrified. He rubbed at his eyes like a small child. Todd watched him, and felt an inane urge to wrap his arms around him and pull him in. He shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping them close.

“Okay, how ‘bout this,” he said. “I’ll drive us back to my apartment, and you can spend the night. This doesn’t mean I’m saying yes, it just means that we can talk in the morning. We’ll video-call Amanda or something. Alright? And you better get some rest, too,” he added, and offered Dirk a smile. “I’m gonna ask you about a thousand questions.”

Dirk made a thoughtful noise, and then nodded. “I can answer questions. Maybe not a thousand, though. Unless you ask them very, very quickly.”

As Todd drove home to a silence that had once been familiar and comforting but now seemed stuffy and uncomfortable, he couldn’t stop glancing over to the rearview mirror. Once in a while, he’d catch Dirk looking back. It was about nine at night by now, but although that wasn’t late by any standards whatsoever Todd felt almost indescribably exhausted. It was accompanied by a buzz, though, one that had been steadily growing in the back of his consciousness ever since the instant he opened the door for Dirk, incrementing with each outlandish and bizarre occurrence since then. And now it had all exploded in his mind, blazing curiosity and astonishment building up in his brain like an itch he yearned to scratch. It all proved to be extremely self contradicting and confusing and Todd’s headache had gotten so steady by now that he was almost used to it.

“Do you have wings?” he blurted out, unable to contain his questions.

“Yyyes,” Dirk said, drawing out the word, sounding strangely reluctant to answer.

“Can you fly?”

“Um,” Dirk said. “A bit.”

Todd’s eyebrows rose. “Well, how ‘bout that,” he muttered. “I’ll have to see that sometime.” He glanced at the reflection of Dirk to see him looking—huh. Looking supremely uncomfortable. “Not that you have to,” he added. “If it’s a privacy thing, whatever, man. It’s cool.”

“It’s not so much private then… intimate,” Dirk said.

“Right. The astral whatever thing.” Todd tried to keep the heat from rising to his face. “About that, sorry again. For, y’know.”

“It’s alright,” Dirk said, and it seemed like Todd’s take at resolving the tension only seemed to make it worse.

“So do you have to eat?” Todd asked, quickly changing the subject. “Sleep? Whatever?”

“I was hoping I’d be able to figure it out as I went on,” Dirk said, and Todd glanced at the rearview mirror to see him shrugging. “If I feel hungry, I’ll eat. If I feel tired, I’ll sleep.”

“Man, you gotta think ahead sometimes,” Todd said. “Can’t just go into things headfirst all the time.”

“Well,” Dirk said, suddenly sounding a bit defensive, “that’s what I usually do, and things turn out fine. It worked this time, didn’t it?”

Todd didn’t answer that last question. “Yeah, well, I could’ve been a lot more trigger happy.”

“But you weren’t,” Dirk said, sounding inordinately pleased.

_“But,” _Todd said, “is never a guarantee. This is your first day as a human. You’re in downtown Seattle. You’ve gotta be more careful, man.”

Had it not been Todd behind the door of the apartment Dirk had been pacing in front of, had it not been Todd’s car Dirk magicked himself into out of thin air—it wasn’t hard to come up with a dozen ways things could’ve immediately gone south. Some of the particular people around here, around this area, if you knew where to look… Hell, had it been Todd, who he had been just a few years younger with a lifetime of ignorance and the headstrong of rebellion burning bright, he couldn’t imagine how things could’ve turned out.

“Aw, Todd,” Dirk said cheerily, “are you _worried _about me?”

“Yeah,” Todd said without thinking.

“Oh,” Dirk said. It didn’t seem to be the answer he was expecting.

Todd sighed, and looked up to meet Dirk’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Look. Dirk,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

Dirk blinked.

“I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot,” Todd continued. “I’m not saying you couldn’t have explained things better the first time around, or that your approach to all this was the best, really—but I shouldn’t have ditched you back at the fair. That was a dick move. _And, _I haven’t really been giving off friendly vibes overall, either.” Todd raised his eyebrows in an approximation of an apologetic look. “So I’m sorry. Are we cool?”

Dirk’s eyes were trained on Todd’s with an intense curiosity. Then, he broke into a smile, bright and cheery and, goddamn, Todd was going to regret this in the future.

“Of course,” Dirk said. “We’re Cool.” He said the word ‘cool’ like it came with a capital letter C, and Todd fought the urge to smile.

He nodded instead. “Glad to hear it,” he said brusquely, and averted his gaze.

Silence fell upon them again, but this time it was a soft, familiar comfort.

Todd pressed a button and opened the car windows, letting the cool breeze of the summer city air snake into the car. The sky was stuck in limbo between light and dark, an inky navy blue, city lights not yet switched on for the night. Somewhere in the far off distance, music played, so faintly it felt like a memory, a muffled drum beat like the pounding of a heart.

-+-+-+-

Dirk couldn’t remember very much about human life, but he did know that you weren’t supposed to drink coffee at 9 pm. When he told Todd this, Todd had laughed—dry-huffed and acrid. He reached for a small pot on the countertop and a spoon and stirred sugar into a green-striped mug. 

“You’re not supposed to do a lot of things,” he said. “Doesn’t stop us from doing ‘em.”

Dirk considered this. It made sense. Sort of. Which was why he accepted the green-striped mug Todd handed to him, brought it close, and took a deep inhale of the warm toasty scent, sighing immediately at the pleasure that tingled through him at the smell.

One of the first things he had noticed once he had arrived on Earth was the complete and utterly overwhelming and engulfing sensation of—well, of sensation. Heaven was tranquil, peace everlasting, covered with a calm like the purest layer of snow. Seattle was traffic horns and pedestrian shouts and the distant jazz sax of a street performer, the bright-pink of the graffiti on the wall and the murky rain-grey of the sky broken by the smattering of a city skyline, buildings spiraling up and up and up, higher than his eyes could see; people pushing past him with impatience, jostled and jumbled like jigsaw pieces scattered through the streets. He had known this before from studying Earth from above, but it was like showing you a matchstick and telling you to imagine a forest fire. He had realized very quickly why the English language had such a vast vocabulary. There weren’t nearly enough words to explain everything, and with every passing moment the list only got larger.

Zachariah had made him manifest his physical form in Heaven so that he could get used to the feeling of a corporeal body, but it had not nearly prepared him enough for the real thing. It was as if every single touch, every emotion, had been amplified tenfold.

(A small, tiny, buried part of him had sparked at the sensations. Like he had very nearly missed it. Like he was coming home when he felt his breathing go fast-fast-fast-too-fast, out of control hammering of the heart, the salt sting on his cheeks. But he dismissed that string of thought quickly—that was a path he wasn't going to go down, ever again. He was an angel, now. The past was inconsequential.)

And although he felt his fair share of the negatives, the other side of the spectrum undoubtedly balanced things out. His body was simply remarkable: Dirk had always felt emotions, but now with a physical manifestation of his mind and a nervous system to match, real synapses and nerve endings and long-winded brain chemicals, he had spent most of the day in a permanent state of overexposure. It was, actually, quite wonderful, he decided. It wasn’t like he wasn’t ever excited or happy or amazed when he was an angel, but it was never quite like this.

For example: he knew what coffee smelled like. He had even created a coffee machine on his countertop once, when he had been feeling particularly peaky. He had brewed the coffee, he had smelled the coffee, he had drank the coffee. But he realized now how dull, how _faded, _it had been. It was like comparing a broken chrysalis to the butterfly; a ghost in the shell of the whole. The coffee he held now in his hands… He felt the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into his palms, almost stinging, he felt it tickle his nose through tendrils that carried the heavenly (oh, the irony) scent, and when he lightly blew and took a careful sip, the taste that spread through his tongue had more sustenance than his fifty-so years of Heaven combined. Even the sting of heat was a garnish.

“Jesus,” Todd said. Dirk opened his eyes to see him watching with a half-pained, half-amused look. (And there was another thing―human emotions were so vast and incredibly complex that he could never pinpoint down a single one, always a blend of idiosyncrasies and contradictions.) “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s _amazing _coffee,” Dirk said, and took another sip.

Todd laughed a little. “It’s shitty instant coffee. I’ll have to buy you a cup from the cafe down the street sometime. You would _die.”_

“You mean there’s coffee that tastes better than this?” Wide eyed, Dirk drew the mug closer to himself protectively.

“Dude,” Todd said, “basically any coffee tastes better than this.” He took a sip from his own mug and grimaced. He reached for the same pot of sugar and added some to his own mug. It was only then that Dirk realized his own had sugar already added.

“How did you know I’d like sugar in my coffee?” Dirk asked, licking the corner of his lips, chasing the taste.

Todd glanced at him, then back at where he was stirring his mug on the countertop (which, for some reason, was covered in toothpaste. Perhaps a new renovation method?). “You just seemed like the type.”

“You know, Todd,” Dirk said, “that’s awfully _sweet _of you.”

Todd stopped moving, and then he slowly looked up at Dirk, who was trying to hide a grin—unsuccessfully, if the tugging at the corners of his lips was any indication.

“You seemed like the type to enjoy terrible puns, too,” Todd said. “Glad to know my instincts aren’t lacking.”

Dirk gave up and let the grin stretch along his face. That was another thing: it was just muscle movement, lips curving up, nothing more―but it felt so good, so habitually and instinctually and naturally _good, _to smile. He watched Todd watch him with those astonishingly blue eyes, watched as his lips quirked up in response. 

Todd placed his mug down on the countertop and sighed. “You know,” he said, “it’s scary how quickly I’ve accepted this.”

“Accepted what?”

“That you’re a fucking _angel.” _Todd waved a hand at Dirk. “I should be freaking out. I should be interrogating you. I said I’d do that in the car, didn’t I? I should be _at least _calling Amanda to check out what the fresh fuck she had been thinking.”

He gulped his coffee, and then, in a turn of events that Dirk found incredibly ironic, yawned. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and rubbed his eyes. Though still the pure, incredible blue that they always were (Dirk had developed some sort of fascination with Todd’s eyes the moment he had seen them; it just wasn’t possible to have eyes that blue, now, was it?), they now carried the heaviness of a long, long day, ringed with shadows and exhaustion.

“You look, um. Tired,” Dirk approached with trepidation.

“Shocking,” Todd muttered.

Dirk frowned. “You should sleep.” That was what humans did, right? For eight hours a day? They couldn’t possibly have evolved _that _much.

“Again; should, doesn’t mean I will.” Todd quirked a look at Dirk. “I still have to interrogate you, remember? And probably Amanda, too, after that. And _then _I’ll sleep. Early shift tomorrow.”

“Shift?” Dirk said, piqued.

“I’m a hotel clerk,” Todd said. “I know, don’t look so jealous.”

“I’m not—” Dirk shut his mouth.

Todd looked amused. “No sarcasm in Heaven, I take it?”

“Oh, _tons,” _Dirk said.

Todd huffed out a laugh and raised his mug, tossing back the last bit of his coffee. Dirk did the same, and murmured a grateful thanks as Todd plucked the handle from his hands and carried both their mugs to the sink.

Dirk watched Todd haphazardly rinse out the mugs before sliding them back into the cabinets, and noted with even more attention the slump of his shoulders and the drag of his feet.

He pursed his lips. “You should really get some sleep,” he said. “Questions can wait until tomorrow. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Or Amanda, either.”

Todd rolled his eyes. “Okay, mom.”

“Sleep is important,” Dirk insisted. “If you don’t get eight hours, you begin to—um, experience poor short-term memory and lethargicness?”

“Oh, right, I forgot this is new to you.” Todd tapped his forehead. “News flash, eight hours is a myth.”

Dirk felt a flash of alarm. This was terrible news! Maybe this was why Todd wasn’t happy. Maybe he just needed to sleep more?

“What if I go to bed?” Dirk bargained. “Will you?”

“What? No,” Todd said, frowning. “That’s not how it works.”

“Please?” Dirk gave Todd his best pleading look. “Go to bed?”

“Seriously, man, that’s not fair.”

Dirk forced Todd to meet his eyes. “Please, Todd,” he said.

Todd shook his head, but Dirk knew he had won.

“Whatever,” Todd said. Dirk beamed.

“What about you?” Todd asked. “You’ve got a place to crash? Angel bunker or… something?”

Dirk’s beam fell. “No.” The word tumbled out of his mouth and landed flatly in a heap in front of him. Angel or not, Dirk Gently was not good with thinking and planning ahead.

Todd sighed. “Yeah, I figured. I’ve got a pullout couch. You can sleep there for now, I guess.”

He started to walk to the living room, and then stopped and turned back.

“You don’t happen to have brought a toothbrush, do you?”

“No,” Dirk said, guiltily.

“You don’t have pyjamas either,” Todd said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Dirk answered anyways. It was rapidly becoming one of his least favourite words.

Todd looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

“I can sleep in this,” Dirk said desperately, feeling helplessness like a nasty burn down the back of his neck. He was supposed to be here to make Todd _happy. _So far, he’d done nothing but make things harder for him. The reminder made him feel worse and he quickly added, “Actually, I’m totally fine like this. You can just go to bed.”

Todd pierced Dirk with a look. “Dirk,” he said, sounding irritated. “What are you talking about?”

Aaand he just made things even worse. Brilliant.

“You don’t have to, to feel obliged,” he quickly explained. “It’s my fault for not having a place to sleep or a change of clothes or anything else. I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out myself. You can just go to bed.” Satisfied, Dirk let out the last of the air left in his lungs, and smiled at Todd.

Who was looking very much exceedingly not happy. Dirk felt a spark of frustration; how had he messed things up again?

Todd walked closer until they were just a few paces apart.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, eyes narrowed, voice low and slow in a way that inexplicably sent alarm bells ringing in Dirk’s subconsciousness. “I’m going to get you a pair of pyjamas, and you’re going to change into them. And then I’m going to dig up a spare toothbrush for you, and you’re going to brush your teeth. And then I’m going to set up the pull out couch for you, and you’re going to sleep in it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Capiche?”

Dirk was stunned. “But—”

“If you think ditching you and leaving you, a day-old human, to fend for yourself, is going to make me happy,” Todd interrupted, voice curt, “you’ve gotta reevaluate your whole approach.” He started to walk away. “C’mon.”

Dirk followed, more out of instinct than anything else. His mind was suddenly in a whirl. Todd was right: he really did need to reevaluate.

-+-+-+-

Another thing that Dirk knew about coffee was that it made it incredibly difficult to go to sleep. This was, actually, the cause behind the first thing that he knew about coffee.

Now, whether or not it was solely because of the coffee, he wasn’t sure, but after tossing and turning on the springy, hard pull-out mattress for what felt like hours but was in reality fifteen minutes, trying unsuccessfully to stop the jittering of his thumbs and the wiggling of his toes, he had ripped the thin blue blanket off of himself and paced the living room for what must have been a full hour before he finally felt his limbs grow heavy and the incessant buzzing in the back of his scalp dwindle into a pleasant hazy fog. He couldn’t even remember falling back onto the sofa.

He wondered if Todd had done and felt the same, but then he recalled the way he looked as if he were to collapse while handing Dirk clothes and a toothbrush, the way he had cursed and stumbled while fiddling with the latch of the pull-out couch. His exhaustion had been so great, Dirk realized, that the caffeine had little to no effect against it.

It made him wonder what he did when Dirk hadn’t been here, what he would’ve done. How often, he wondered, did Todd push himself to the limits and then more? It sent an odd twisting sensation in his stomach and left a bad taste in his mouth. The first thing he was going to do in the morning, Dirk decided right then and there, was to make sure Todd was healthy. Was _that _why he was unhappy? He quickly realized that there wasn’t going to be a single, clear objective to this assignment. 

That thought was the last thing that drifted into his mind before things went fuzzy. The next thing he remembered, he jolted into awareness with a hand on his shoulder.

“Peaches and cream chantilly!” he rushed out in a flailing of words, the phrase flashing in his mind a moment before he opened his eyes.

Todd looked back at him, an eyebrow raised. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Um,” Dirk said, utterly disorientated. “Give me a moment.”

Todd huffed a laugh and backed off, releasing Dirk’s shoulder. Dirk glanced down at himself and, instead of the expected canary yellow, saw a faded black t-shirt that read _ACDC. _The sequence of letters striked something in his memory, but it danced away before he could grasp it. At the same time, the events of the past day sauntered back into his mind.

“I fell asleep,” Dirk said, feeling astonished.

“Sure did,” Todd called out from the kitchen. “Like a dead man.” He was doing something in front of the stovetop, where a sizzling sound could he heard. Dirk took in a deep breath from his nose and smelled something absolutely _amazing._

“Oh my god,” he said, “what are you making?”

Todd looked over. He was wearing a soft blue flannel over sweatpants and bare feet, and his hair was mussed and messy, slightly damp. “Don’t sound so amazed,” he said. “It’s literally just scrambled eggs. And I’m warning you ahead of time, I’m terrible at scrambled eggs.”

Dirk scrambled (ha) off the couch and padded over to where Todd was scraping the eggs off the pan and divvying it into two plates.

“You made some for me?” Dirk asked.

Todd gave Dirk a funny look. “‘Course I did. You thought I was let you starve?”

“Angels don’t have to eat,” Dirk said.

Todd snorted. “Yeah, well, you also don’t have to sleep, either, and look how well that turned out.” Before Dirk could retort, he pushed the plate of scrambled eggs towards him and handed him a fork. “Enjoy.”

Hadn’t Dirk decided that the first thing he was going to do was to take care of Todd? Now look at what was happening. Todd had _made breakfast for him. _Dirk had been nothing more than a freaky stranger, an inconvenience, a hassle, and now another mouth to feed. Dirk looked at the plate of scrambled eggs like it was the bane of his existence.

“Jesus Christ,” he heard Todd mutter. “When I said I was awful at scrambled eggs, I didn’t mean it like _that. _Way to make a host feel inadequate.”

Oh, bollocks. “I wasn’t—! It’s not like that, I just—”

Todd interrupted, holding up a hand. “I know. I was joking.”

“Oh,” Dirk said after a moment.

Todd sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I thought we’d cleared this up last night, but guess not.” He put down his plate and pushed himself off of where he had been leaning on the counter (which was now miraculously toothpaste-free.) “Look, man, you gotta stop being all jumpy around me. I’m not going to shatter.”

Dirk chewed on the inside of his lip. “I’m here on an assignment, Todd.”

“I know,” Todd said. “To make me happy or some bullshit like that—which, speaking of, we’re skyping Amanda right after we’re done with this conversation.”

“‘Kay,” Dirk agreed absentmindedly. “I just don’t want to be an inconvenience, is all. You’re not obliged to do anything for me.”

Todd stared at Dirk long and hard in that same way as he did last night. Dirk twirled the fork in his hand, fiddling anxiously and looking away.

“You said you wanted to make me happy, right?” Todd finally said. Dirk nodded, and Todd nodded back. “Cool. Treating me like I’m not made of glass makes me very, very happy. And so does letting _me _take care of _you.” _Todd ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Now shut up and eat your scrambled eggs. It’s too early for this shit.”

Dirk waited all the way until Todd had finished carrying his plate to the table, along with two mugs of steaming coffee, before scooping some eggs onto his fork. Breakfast etiquette was the least he could do.

Dirk gingerly fed the fork into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. When the taste registered in his mind, he very nearly moaned. By the way Todd choked, it might’ve been more than very nearly. Oops.

“You said these were awful?” Dirk said, a small part of his mind remembering that talking with his mouth full was considered rude but the rest of his mind not giving a damn. “Have your tastebuds gone extinct?”

Todd watched Dirk eat his scrambled eggs with his single-minded vigour. “I—” He seemed a little flabbergasted. “You think anything tastes good,” he settled on, before returning to his phone.

He tapped through his phone for another moment before holding it up. A moment later, his phone emitted a buzzing and then a beep, and then a slightly confused but cheery female voice came out from its speakers.

“Todd! What’s up?” it called out.

“Amanda,” Todd said, “did you pray for me to be happy?”

Dirk suddenly swallowed his half-chewed eggs. Todd certainly didn’t beat around the bush.

“Uhhh,” Amanda said. Todd grabbed the phone and flipped it around so that it faced Dirk. Dirk caught a glimpse of a deer-in-headlights look before it morphed into confusion.

“Who the hell are you?” Amanda said from the screen.

“Um,” Dirk said. “I’m Dirk Gently. An angel. I was assigned your prayer.” He gave a little wave. “Hi.”

“Oh my God,” Amanda said. “It worked? It fucking worked?”

Dirk had to admit, he was immensely relieved that he wouldn’t have to go through all the disbelief and doubt that he did with Todd. “Yes, it did,” he said, smiling.

Amanda grinned back, big and genuine, and while Dirk saw the resemblance—the big expressive eyes (though hers were more hazel while Todd’s were more electric blue), the brown hair, the way they both used their eyebrows when they spoke—the difference between their smiles were clear as day. Dirk remembered Todd’s snark of a sideways grin and soft smile that always had that tinge of tired reluctance, and wondered what he’d look like with Amanda’s smile.

Todd cut in, swivelling the phone to his side. “Amanda, what the hell were you thinking?”

Amanda rolled his eyes. “Jeez, don’t be such a drag. You’re in a room with a freaking _angel, _dude.”

“Yeah, speaking of—how did you even know they _existed?”_

“Lucky guess,” came the reply.

_“Amanda.”_

“Ugh, okay. I went to that country fair with some friends over the weekend. There were one of those fortune-telling tents there.”

“And you believe in that bullshit?” Todd scoffed.

Dirk could hear Amanda’s glare through her voice through the phone. “Well it fucking worked, didn’t it?”

“Okay, fine, but—why didn’t you ask for—” Todd’s voice dropped. “You know.”

Amanda’s voice softened. “I did,” she said. “She said she couldn’t help. Maybe it’s only through meds, I don’t know. So I prayed for you instead.”

“Why?” The word was laced with indignation, resolute anger.

“Todd, I don’t think you’ve taken a day off for yourself since _college.”_

Todd shook his head. “I’m fine, Amanda.”

Amanda snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. And either way, he’s here already, isn’t he?”

“He can leave,” Todd said quickly, and the casual way he threw that out send an irrational prick of hurt down Dirk’s spine. He turned to Dirk. “Right, Dirk? You can leave?”

“I,” Dirk said. “I’m not allowed to leave until the prayer has been fulfilled.”

“Is there any way to turn down an assignment?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Fuck,” Todd said. “You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of my life, man.”

“And _that,” _Amanda said sharply, “is _exactly _the attitude that’ll _make _that come true. Jesus Christ, Todd, let yourself be happy.”

“That’s not—” Todd made a sharp, strangled noise. “You don’t get it, Amanda.”

“Well, maybe I _would,” _Amanda said, her voice turning cold, “if you actually _talked _to me more than once a year.”

Todd stumbled back as if shot. “Amanda…” he shoved himself away from the table and dropped the phone on the surface. “Give me a moment. Dirk, stay put. Don’t let Amanda say anything.”

“Oh, sure,” Amanda snarked.

“Yo, Dirk. Pick up the phone, will ya?” she asked when Todd had left.

Dirk, feeling like he had just been thrown into the middle of a civil war without any ammunition or armour whatsoever, picked up the phone.

Amanda leaned in closer to the camera, hair falling over her eyes. “‘Kay, listen up before he gets back. Quickly, and don’t interrupt. Todd never tells this to anyone, but I’m going to tell this to you because it’s the one thing you need to make him happy again.”

Her voice lowered until she was speaking in rapid, hushed tones. “I have this disease, Pararibulitis. It’s… it’s real painful and real shitty, that’s all you need to know. Todd used to have it back in college, but he took a bunch of meds and got better. But it used up all our parents’ savings, so by the time I had my first attack, they didn’t have enough money for the same kind of treatment for me. That’s why Todd isn’t happy—survivor’s guilt, stuff like that. He sends me more than enough money every months to pay for my meds, but he still feels guilty. That’s what’s holding him back. He has to realize that it isn’t his fault and let it go. How that happens is up to you—that’s your job, after all.

“Don’t tell him I told you any of this. Todd never, ever, told anyone about his pararibulitis. If he finds out I told you, he’d totally flip. Just—look, you already have an advantage here, because the thing about Todd is that he shuts people out. Hell, he shuts _me _out. But you, you’re _stuck _with him. He’s not going to kick you out because of his guilt complex. He doesn’t want you stuck to him for the rest of his life; he _has _to try to be happy. Try to gain his trust, and maybe he’ll tell you about his Pararibulitis himself. When that happens, you have to convince him, Dirk.”

Amanda opened her mouth again and froze, her eyes darting somewhere behind Dirk. Suddenly, her whole demeanour changed, her features becoming relaxed, her voice louder and more loose.

“And then when he was climbing off the roof, he saw me running over and tried to wave at me. While he was dangling off the roof. With both hands.”

“Oh, god,” Todd said, sliding into a chair next to Dirk and scooching closer until both their faces were in frame. His voice sounded eons lighter, casual and relaxed. “Not that story. I was _seven.”_

“And stupid as fuck.” Amanda smirked. “Not much has changed.”

“Watch it, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Amanda said, tossing it out so casually that it must’ve been a regular exchange.

Todd huffed out a laugh, and then some of the humour drained from his face. “Look, Amanda, I’m sorry for blowing up on you.”

Amanda’s face softened. “Nah, I’m sorry, too. I’m really grateful for you, you know that, right, Todd? It’s just… You work so hard to keep me happy that I want you to be, too. Man, I freaking prayed for you. There’s a literal angel eating breakfast with you right now.” Her eyes widened. “I just wish you’d give it a chance, y’know?”

Todd took a deep breath. “I know. And… okay. I thought about it, and you’re right.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Todd gave a small smile.

“Yes!” Amanda pumped her fist in the air. “You’re the best, Todd. Yo, Dirk, you treat my brother well, you hear? Make him happy.” She pointed at him and winked.

Dirk decided that he liked Amanda. “Amanda,” he said, faux-solemnly placing a hand on his chest, “I will make your brother the happiest man to have walked this Earth.”

“Hell yeah,” Amanda said, grinning wickedly. “Hear that, Todd? You’re gonna be _real _happy with Dirk here.”

“Both of you, shut up,” Todd muttered.

“Just you wait and see, Todd,” Amanda said. “Just you wait and see. I expect updates on the daily. You’re still visiting this weekend, yeah?”

“‘’Course I am.”

“Good. Bring Dirk.”

“Amanda—”

“Nope,” Amanda said. “Nuh-uh. No arguments. Bring him or I won’t take you to that gelato place you like so much.” She flashed a peace sign at the camera. “See ya.”

“Hey—” Todd said, right as the screen beeped and flashed a red icon of a phone being hung up. “Dammit, Amanda.”

He turned off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. “Well, that turned out well.” He looked slightly apologetic. “Sorry about what happened earlier. Amanda and I… you know how siblings are. I got a bit worked up back there. I hope it wasn’t too bad for you.”

“It’s fine,” Dirk said, and decided to test his boundaries. “I am, however, curious on why she’s so adamant on making you happier. Enough to pray for you, too.”

Todd didn’t even blink. “Ah, she’s just being sappy.”

Dirk watched Todd as he continued to eat, oblivious to Dirk’s turmoil. He now saw Todd in a whole new light after what Amanda had told him. It was hard to imagine what he must’ve gone through. Even thinking about it sent sympathetic guilt rolling through Dirk. 

It certainly provided him with ample information to start. If he wanted there to be any chance of Todd becoming happier, one thing was certain: he needed to get it into Todd’s head that what had happened with Amanda was not his fault. In order to do so, he needed to get Todd to reveal what had happened to Dirk himself. And in order to do _that… _he needed to gain Todd’s trust.

And now he just needed to figure out how in the world he was supposed to do that.

Dirk sighed. This was going to be even harder than he’d thought.

* * *

**Part Two ** _(I'm falling in love and honey I don't think I'll ever get up)_

The Internet, Dirk discovered very promptly, was absolutely amazing.

Todd had laughed when Dirk told him this (after showing him a video of a cat falling off a chair that had made him giggle for ten minutes straight). He also told him that he wouldn’t think that if he saw “some of the shit that’s really deep in there.” Dirk decided that he didn’t want to know. When he told Todd this, he said that it was a good idea. After two hours of clicking through links and over a dozen occasions where he either screamed, slammed the laptop closed, or stared with a gruesome and horrific fascination and inability to tear his eyes away, he concluded that his original idea was, indeed, a good idea. If only he had followed through with it.

But apart from those outstanding circumstances, Dirk found many, many helpful resources regarding happiness, along with oodles and oodles of cookie recipes that he was just itching to try as soon as he could figure out how the oven worked. He didn’t think Todd would be especially happy if he burned the apartment down.

The google search _‘how to make someone happy’ _resulted in about 1 840 000 000 results in half a second, which Dirk found frankly quite staggering and once again a reinforcement of his previous statement.

One of the common answers was to bake cookies for them. Dirk decided to take that as a direct sign from the Heavens, or so he told himself as he wandered into the kitchen and opened all the drawers and cupboards in search of the proper ingredients to bake some classic chocolate chip cookies.

He measured and scooped and stirred and poured, humming happily under his breath as he did so. He rolled balls of dough (with half a broken-up chocolate bar instead of chocolate chips because he couldn’t find any) and placed them on the slightly beaten-up baking sheet. Todd had gone out to get groceries, and Dirk calculated that he should be back right before the cookies would be done baking.

With ten minutes give or take to spare, Dirk began to wander the flat. It seemed cozy and well-worn, but what striked Dirk as strange was the lack of anything… individual. There were no pictures, no posters, nothing that would give anything away about the man living here. Frowning, Dirk swept his eyes across the living room and—aha!

Right there, leaning against the television set. A black-blue guitar. It was the first thing that indicated any sort of hobby, individuality, or interest of Todd’s, and Dirk made an immediate beeline for it.

Gingerly, he picked it up by the neck. A stark contrast from the rest of the flat, the guitar was decorated with artistic black flourishes, layering evident and peeling at the edges. It was obviously well-loved. Another quick Google search and a few minutes later, he wound up sitting cross-legged on the couch, marvelling at the odd cutting sensation of the strings pressing against his finger pads and strumming out a few chords that, okay, maybe could sound better. Hey, he wasn’t trying to impress anyone here. 

That was how Todd found him when he came home, carrying overflowing grocery bags with both hands. He stopped in the middle of his tracks when he saw Dirk. Dirk looked up and froze.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out when he noticed Todd’s astonished expression. “It was right there—I thought it’d be okay.”

Todd shook his head while he made his way to the kitchen and dropped the bags haphazardly on the counter, letting their contents spill out. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just surprised.” He made his way over to the living room and nodded at the guitar in Dirk’s lap. “You play?”

“Yes,” Dirk said quickly. “I’m a _master _guitar player. I was trained by the Beatles themselves.” He strummed his rendition of a C chord and then winced. “That was a lie.”

Todd snorted and sat down next to him. “Dirk, are you left handed?”

“No.”

“Then why are you holding it like you are?” Todd took the guitar and flipped it around, and then looped the strap around Dirk’s neck. He jerked his chin towards the laptop on the coffee table, open to a table of what the website insisted were beginner chords. (Yeah, right.) “Whatever, uh, chord that was,” he said. “Try it again.”

Dirk maneuvered his fingers with more than a little bit of effort and tried again.

Todd frowned. “Are you sure you’re reading the charts right?”

“Of course,” Dirk lied. He was actually mostly just pressing his fingers randomly. He re-positioned his fingers and strummed again.

“Are you _sure _you’re not just pressing randomly?” 

“There's a possibility,” Dirk said.

Todd huffed a laugh. Dirk tried to cross his arms with the guitar still in his lap in a position that was incredibly uncomfortable and steeled his expression into casual nonchalance.

“Here,” Todd said, “give it.” He helped Dirk take the strap off of his shoulders, and a moment later he had it around his own neck, plucking at the strings with one hand and twisting the pegs with his other. He reached behind him and pulled out his wallet, then from one of the pockets drew out a small black chip—a guitar pick, Dirk realized. He gripped it in his hand and then began to play a twangy, repeating melody.

“Where’s that from?” Dirk asked.

Todd hit his knuckles on the strings to stop playing. “Nothing,” he said. “Just some technique, scale stuff.”

Dirk watched, fascinated. As Todd continued to play, something became more and more apparent, and watched silently, utterly enthralled.

Todd looked more relaxed than Dirk had ever seen him, his shoulders loose, head nodding, socked feet tapping on the floor. His fingers moved with ease and precision, like he had done this all his life, as if it was as natural as breathing. He was smiling, and that wasn’t supposed to be peculiar, but it _was, _because Dirk had never seen Todd smile like that before: so open and relaxed.

“Do you play often?” Dirk blurted, unable to contain himself. “Are you in a band or anything?”

And, just like that, the switch flicked off. Todd’s face shuttered and his fingers clapped against the strings, muting them.

“A little bit,” he said, voice painfully casual. “Not anymore, though.” He was already pushing the guitar off of his lap, and now he stood up to put it back.

Watching him, Dirk felt a pang of frustration. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to save the situation. “I’m sure there’ll be times when you get to play again.”

Walking back, Todd sat back down next to Dirk and huffed a laugh. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. When Dirk waited for him to elaborate, he was given nothing but a heavy silence.

Dirk frowned and compulsively chewed on the inside of his lip, tearing off little bits of skin. Todd was definitely hiding something, but was he to push? Would that make Todd happy? A definite, hard no.

He sighed. He remembered reading something about getting people to open up—something or other about physical touch. Trust building exercises. Fun activities. If he could just take them out stargazing sometime; Dirk had an excellent knowledge of constellations, including a few made-up ones of his own that, if he didn’t say so himself, had much more enthralling and fascinating stories than some of the ones already existing. Another: _Take them out for an energizing hike through nature, _one said, and trees were pretty, he supposed, but was Todd one to smile or scowl at gravel in his shoes and dirt on his jacket?

He had gotten so caught up in his thoughts that, when Todd lifted his head, sniffed the air, and said, “Do you smell smoke?” it took him a few moments to remember.

“Oh, _shit,” _he said under his breath, and leaped off the couch and made a beeline to the kitchen.

-+-+-+-

After doing some more rounds of research (only occasionally—okay, maybe frequently—being sidetracked by strange YouTube videos and Wikipedia pages—he’d once spent an hour watching soap-crunching ASMR before realizing his descent), by the end of which his trusty manilla folder became dotted and riddled with bright-coloured sticky notes in a rainbow across the front of the page, through the absent doodles and squiggles were chock-full of condensed information he had found via the Wonderful and Fantastic thing that Dirk now knew as as the Internet, and from these notes, Dirk noticed a growing pattern: almost all of the sources insisted that physical contact would increase happiness.

A search of physical touch and intimacy brought a boatload of articles and scientific journals, all of which Dirk had devoured with growing intrigue. Apparently, physical touch could release brain chemicals known as ‘happy hormones’. People who had become isolated and distanced from others grew to develop a syndrome that could be described as ‘touch-starved’.

Dirk suspected that Todd may be having symptoms of this particular syndrome. He didn’t have a significant other nor close family (save for Amanda, whom he only saw once every few weeks, if that), and his suspicions only grew the more time passed. Simultaneously, he began to notice something that struck him as particularly peculiar: whenever there were people around them who were exhibiting some sort of physical touch with someone around them—whether that be a hug, handshake, or more intimate shows of affection—Todd would watch.

Like, for example, what he was doing right now.

They had gone out to get groceries (together because Dirk insisted he wasn’t buying the right percentage of coffee creamer because it tasted different than the week before) and there, in cereal aisle three: a couple with their arms around each other, arguing about the cholesterol count on a box of Special K oats.

“You know you get those heart palpitations,” Dirk heard the woman say to the man.

Dirk got onto his tiptoes and pulled out a carton of half-and-half, studied it with satisfaction, and put it into the cart. He looked back at Todd, who was still looking at the couple down the aisle. He had a bit of a faraway look on his face.

Dirk gave them a cursory glance as the man laughed and shook his head, kissing the woman on the cheek. It was sweet, he supposed, but nothing to warrant the way Todd was observing them.

“Todd,” Dirk said, trying to get his attention. After a moment of thought, he reached out a hand and placed it on Todd’s arm.

Todd jerked his arm away as if Dirk had been holding a bee with its stinger-side down. “What?”

Dirk stared at Todd for a moment, and then reached into their cart and held up the carton of creamer.

“See this, Todd?” he said, wide-eyed and exaggerated. _“This _is the right kind of creamer. Whatever you bought last week was _most definitely _not this right kind of creamer.”

Todd gave the carton one half-hearted look and then took it from Dirk’s hands, throwing it back into the cart. “Okay, Gordon Ramsay,” he snorted. “Whatever makes you happy.” Dirk made a show of rolling his eyes.

As they moved on, Dirk noticed Todd giving the couple one last, longing look.

There was no doubt about it that Todd wanted physical touch at this point—it was clear from Dirk’s perspective. But why, then, had he pulled away? What on Earth did Todd want? What on Earth made him _happy?_

He was so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking. It was only until Todd called out his name that he jerked out of it, blinking haphazardly at Todd, who was several paces in front of him.

Todd raised an eyebrow at him. “You alright?”

“Yup,” Dirk said quickly. “I, um, had a heart palpitation.”

Todd gave Dirk a Look. “A heart palpitation,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Dirk said earnestly. “I think I’ve been having too much cholesterol.”

Todd kept his eyes fixed on Dirk for a moment more (Dirk had _nearly _gotten to the point where he could take it without squirming. They were just so _blue. _It was unnerving). “Right,” he said. “Well, let me know if you gotta see a doctor.”

“No need,” Dirk chirped. “I’ll just eat less cereal.”

Todd shook his head very slightly, almost to himself, and then turned back and started walking again. Dirk hurried to catch up.

He couldn’t stop pondering things the entire drive home. Perhaps he’d read things wrong, and he was simply making Todd feel uncomfortable? As Todd pulled into the driveway, Dirk decided to test his hypothesis in a more hands-on manner. 

“I got it,” Dirk said when Todd reached for the plastic bags, purposefully speaking up just at the last moment. Dirk reached over and blindly groped in the direction of the bags, brushing up against Todd’s hand for a moment before finally successfully getting a grip on the handle.

Todd made a small, soft sound. When Dirk looked up at him, he was watching Dirk with an odd, curious expression.

“Um. Bye!” Dirk blurted out, and then dashed out of the car without looking back, his heart pounding and his face feeling strangely warm.

The results were conclusive: like always, Todd hadn’t looked repulsed or even uncomfortable at Dirk’s touch. Quite the contrary, in fact. Dirk frowned in thought and tightened his hand on the plastic handle, feeling it dig into his palms. 

That night, when Todd was cooking dinner, Dirk sidled over into the kitchen, determined to get to the bottom of things. If it meant escalation was required, so be it.

“That smells _phenomenal,” _he declared, announcing his presence.

Todd looked up, still stirring the pasta where he was mixing it into the sauce. A small smile rose on his face. “It’s plain spaghetti with canned tomato sauce, Dirk. I doubt it is, as you say, _phenomenal.”_

“You have a terrible British accent,” Dirk informed him. He took a deep breath, then stepped closer behind Todd and placed a hand on his back, leaning in to smell the pot. “And you’re wrong, too.”

He suppressed a sigh when he felt Todd’s muscles tense beneath his hand, and let it fall away. He took a step back, because no matter how certain he was that Todd enjoyed physical contact, it was clear that he still hadn’t come to terms with it just yet.

What was that saying? Baby steps? Boiling a frog in cold water? Boiling a baby in cold water?

Dirk winced. Definitely not that last one.

Over the next few days, Dirk gradually increased the rate and frequency of his “accidental” touches. Despite how wide a doorway was, he’d inevitably end up pushing against Todd’s side, leaving a light hand against his arms or trailing down between his shoulder blades. He tried to incorporate handshakes in the form of fist bumps and high fives to the tens daily. If he walked past Todd while he was sitting at the dining table, working away on his laptop, he’d greet him with a touch on his shoulder, lingering for as long as he dared, that of which was increasing gradually as the plan progressed.

But to his dismay, after days of testing and observing and countless occasions of “accidental” brushes of shoulders and hands, Dirk had come to the conclusion that Todd had to have some sort of _phobia _for physical touch. Haphephobia, Google revealed the name—but Dirk couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t the case. Todd didn’t seem _scared _of the touch, not in the way that meant he _disliked _it. But whenever Dirk sidled up a little too close, hair brushing against his forehead as he peered over Todd’s shoulder to look at his laptop or fingers passing over each other as he handed Todd a book or his phone or whatever it was, Todd would flinch a little, stiffen up, and always, always, draw back.

The thing was, if Todd simply _disliked _it, it wouldn’t be a problem. Dirk could easily keep his distance. But that was the kicker: every time, without fail, Dirk would catch him lingering. One in a while, Dirk caught him glancing over at him with a look that was almost… _longing. _Once he’d even caught him absentmindedly rubbing a hand over his shoulder, where Dirk had slid his hand across, overtly casual as he walked past.

There was an effect. Dirk was sure of it. He noticed Todd watching him more with the same soft, curious look, and, surprisingly, less of the couples they spotted in public. More and more often, the gaze would be inevitable directed towards him. And Dirk was absolutely certain that, on more than one occasion, usually in the sleepy, rumpled hours of the morning when everything was fuzzier and more muted, he had caught Todd leaning into his touch.

But what frustrated Dirk to no end was that, despite all of this, Todd still didn’t accept it. His patience had never been plentiful to begin with, and it was quickly wearing thin.

It didn’t help that Dirk himself was beginning to grow used to the touches. It had been a Saturday when he realized this, when he'd woken up in the morning on the pull-out couch to something that smelled so good he was halfway to the kitchen before he was fully awake.

“Mornin’,” Todd said. _Pancakes, _Dirk realized, as he watched Todd slip one onto a towering pile on a plate. “That one’s yours.”

“Oh my god,” Dirk said, eagerly picking up the plate—but not before landing a grateful hand on Todd’s shoulder and squeezing softly. “You are the _best.”_

Todd ducked his head as his ears turned endearingly pink. “It’s pancake mix,” he admitted.

Dirk placed his plate down at the table and sat down. “So?”

“So,” Todd huffed, switching off the stove and joining Dirk, carrying a plate of his own, along with a tiny bottle of maple syrup that he placed right next to Dirk, “It’s not actually that impressive.”

Dirk tilted his head. “Why?”

_“‘Cause, _I literally just measured out some powder, added eggs and milk, mixed it together, and threw it into a pan.” Todd sliced off a corner of his pancakes and shoved it into his mouth, chewed.

Dirk poured a generous heaping of maple syrup onto his own stack before doing the same.

“Well, Todd,” he said after chewing and swallowing perhaps the singular best bite of pancakes he had ever tasted, “Albert Einstein just picked out some numbers, found patterns and trends, and developed formulas and concepts for them. It’s not actually that impressive.”

“Dirk,” Todd said, sounding amused, “that’s different and you know it.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I appreciate it, though. Thanks.”

Dirk felt his own mouth tug into a beaming smile. He stood up to put away the maple syrup, trailing a hand across Todd’s back as he walked past his chair. It was only after he’d closed the fridge that he realized he’d done it too quickly and too casually to gauge Todd’s reaction. In fact, he hadn’t even been thinking of Todd when he did it—he just… did it. Like it was a completely natural, instinctual reaction.

When he walked past Todd again to get to his chair, he reached out to lightly touch his back again, this time recognizing the ease at which he’d done so, the fact that he hadn’t even thought about it.

The realization came to a gradual head, and when he sank back into his chair it was with a newfound burning curiosity and intrigue over his own body’s reactions. Had his plan backfired? It seemed as if Dirk’s attempts at getting Todd to grow used to physical contact had, in fact, cast the biggest effect on Dirk instead.

For the rest of the day, Dirk was wildly aware of every incident of touch that occured between him and Todd, and even more wildly aware of how little control he seemed to possess over it. It was almost ridiculous: his fingers _twitched _every time they walked past each other. It had been such a gradual change that he hardly noticed at first, but once he did it was starkly obvious. In fact, it seemed as if the tables had turned: Dirk had gone from purposefully touching Todd to purposefully _stopping _himself from doing so.

That night, when Dirk stumbled across Todd emerging from the washroom, dripping and smelling of woodsy shampoo, he clammed up, shoving his hands into his pockets to kill the urge to—alarmingly—ridiculously—completely, utterly inappropriately—draw his fingers through his damp, tousled hair. (I mean, what the hell? Why did he even—)

Todd tilted his head. “Hey, Dirk. You good?” 

Dirk watched a drop of water drip off the ends of his fringe and roll down his cheek. “Totally,” he said. “I’m perfectly fine. Fantastic, even. Phenomenal. Splendidly sensational.”

Todd snorted. “Good to know.” He patted him on the arm as he walked by.

Dirk had been so focused on trying to pinpoint the part of him that had wanted to reach out and touch that he didn’t register the fact that Todd had done it before he could until Todd had disappeared into his room. He blinked, slightly shocked, and rewound the event in his mind.

Slowly, a smile grew on his face, and he beamed once at the empty hallway before hopping into the washroom to brush his teeth.

-+-+-+-

“Dirk, this is stupid.”

_“No,” _Dirk said stubbornly without looking back.

“Actually, yes.” Following despite his words, Todd shook his head with exasperation at the other’s back. “Seriously, man, you’re gonna strain something.”

“I have over fifty years of hiking experience,” Dirk replied loftily. “I am a hiking connoisseur. I could do this in my sleep.” He tripped over a tree root immediately after saying this. Todd’s hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder before he could fall.

“That was a fluke,” Dirk said quickly.

Todd squeezed Dirk’s shoulder lightly before giving him a gentle push, sending him back to a few paces in front of him and giving him a moment to regain his balance before letting go. “Yeah?”

Todd could hear the stubborn line of Dirk’s mouth through his huff. “This’ll be really fun, Todd,” he wheedled. “Trust me.”

“I very much doubt that,” Todd said, “but you promised me a day off tomorrow if I did this today, and that is the only reason why I haven’t ditched you and left in my car by now.”

“Todd!” Dirk turned his head around to give him a look. _“Today _is supposed to be your day off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Todd said. “If it really was, you’d let me stay at home like I wanted to.”

At that, Dirk swung himself completely around and began walking backwards.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Todd said, “you’re gonna trip again.”

Ignoring him, Dirk kept doing that. His feet moved backwards steadily, stepping over tree roots, surprisingly dexterous even with all his attention directed towards Todd with his mouth turned down and his eyebrows furrowed. _“Todd,” _he said in a low voice, eyes blue and wide and out at full force.

“Ugh, god,” Todd said, floundering (every single goddamn time) at that _look. _“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to stop being so cynical about this. The less you think about it, the more fun it’ll be. For both of us.”

Todd threw up his arms. He should’ve realized at this point that once Dirk had his mind made up, he was like a brick wall—inexorable, unbreachable, and with a killer pair of puppy eyes. “Okay, fine,” he muttered.

“I’ll know if you’re lying,” Dirk said, narrowing his eyes.

“What, angels have built-in lie detectors now, too?”

“Yes,” Dirk said immediately.

“Uh-huh.” Todd nodded. “Tell me, Dirk: am I lying right now?”

“Yes,” Dirk said, and then blinked. “Wait, no. Wait, yes. Wait.” He pouted. “That’s not fair!”

Todd grinned. Dirk smiled in return, soft and quirking at the edges as his eyes scanned over Todd’s face.

Todd noticed. His grin slid to the side, fading slightly. “What, I’ve got something on my face?”

“No, you’ve just got a really nice smile,” Dirk replied, so candidly, like it was some everyday casual remark that anyone could throw out. Todd felt a wave of heat surge up his neck and looked away, trying not to think too much about the fluttering sensation the remark had created in his abdomen.

“Eyes on the path, man. Turn around; you’re gonna trip again.”

“I’m not gonna trip again,” Dirk said, still smiling, still looking straight at Todd. Todd convinced himself that the fluttering was discomfort at all the attention and nothing else, nothing more—of course not. To think anything else would be ridiculous. (Yeah, right.)

“Dirk, turn around,” he said finally.

“Fine,” Dirk said, shrugging and turning around and immediately hitting his face on a tree branch. “Ow!”

Todd couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you find my pain amusing,” Dirk grumbled, casting a look back.

Todd hiked his backpack higher over his shoulders and sighed out the last of the laughs in his lungs. When Dirk had spent the morning nearly squirming out of his seat with excitement and energy visibly thrumming through his entire body (even more so than usual), Todd had known that he was planning something. But still, when he rattled off directions while reading off a screenshotted Google Maps on Todd’s phone from the passenger seat, Todd hadn’t known what to expect. He didn’t know what to expect with anything with Dirk Gently, to be frank.

The trail was marked by nothing but a hand-hammered, battered-looking wooden sign. Despite it only about a ten-minute drive from his apartment, Todd hadn’t realized it was there until he had, apropos of Dirk’s directions, pulled into the gravel-lined parking lot. And despite his grousing and reluctant remarks, Todd had to admit that the trail was really quite beautiful. Trees towered up from all around them, sunlight streaming through, filtered a crisp lime-green through the leaves. The path they were on was well-worn, but riddled with gnarled tree roots that threatened to trip anyone who wasn’t careful enough. Todd liked it—it felt surprisingly nice to have something to navigate around. A moderate breeze sent leaves twirling down once in a while, ruffling his hair and landing in cool streams on his face. If he turned his mind to it, he could hear faint birdsong from somewhere faraway, deeper into the forest. Even Dirk, who could not stand even the slightest second without talking, filling the silence with random tangents and rambles and arbitrary fun facts—Todd thought he could probably ace Jeopardy at this point—had gone silent. 

Todd had always called Dirk out on his clumsiness, teasing him with remarks about his two left feet and too-lanky arms and legs, but as they continued to climb, Todd had to admit to himself that that wasn’t the total truth. He watched Dirk gradually get more and more comfortable with maneuvering himself around the tree roots, ducking under branches and stepping over overgrown plants that stretched their arms out to tickle his ankles. He actually had quite a gracefulness to him, motions fluid and lax.

Another, stronger breeze hit him from the side, and he turned his eyes to the sky and watched it sway the tree branches. The air had darkened, the leaves shifting from the bright green he’d remembered to a musky, deep green, and the sky, from where it showed through the gaps of the trees, was an ashy elephant grey.

“Dirk?”

Dirk turned his head back to glance at him. “Yes, Todd?”

Todd took in a deep breath of air, only now noticing the faint scent of dust and earth, the telltale taste of petrichor. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Dirk blinked, smile slipping. His footsteps stopped. “What?”

Todd said, “It’s definitely gonna rain,” right as a rumble rolled through the sky, deep and full. The wind picked up, now more of a push than a wave.

Dirk blinked some more. Suddenly, he flinched and wiped a hand across the back of his neck. He brought it back around, stared at it, and then said, “Oh, shit.”

“Tell me this, Dirk,” Todd said, when he felt similar drops of water hit the back of his neck. “Can angels control the weather?”

“No,” Dirk said, turning his eyes heavenward and looking up in awe.

“Good,” Todd replied, “because that would’ve been a dick move.” He grimaced when he felt the rain hitting his head grow in ferocity, almost unbelievably quickly.

“What do we do?” Dirk turned to Todd, wide-eyed.

“Hell if I know.” Todd ran a hand through his hair, leaving bits of it stuck up, damp from the rain. “We can try making it back, but at this point there’s no difference.”

In the time it took for him to say that sentence, a gust of wind grew in intensity until it nearly knocked him over, the rain nearly horizontal as it battered his body.

Dirk made a loud, shocked noise. “It’s… it’s so _wet!” _

“No shit, Sherlock, it’s fucking rain,” Todd said, cursing himself for putting on such a thin jacket. He stared up at the sky in dismay, as if glaring at it hard enough would make it stop. 

Dirk squirmed and seemed to jump at every raindrop that landed on his skin. It was almost funny, if their situation wasn’t so dire. “It’s _cold,” _he said, running a hand down his arm, his voice tinged with something that almost sounded like awe.

“You think?” Todd grimaced at the feeling of water sliding down the back of his shirt. He raised a hand up to his face, shielding his eyes from the battering of the storm, and tried to think.

It had taken them a good half hour to make it here, and apart from the trees (which, from the quickly-growing experience Todd was gaining, did jackshit) there was no other shelter. For what it was worth, if they didn’t find someplace dry in the next thirty seconds it really wouldn’t be any different if they stayed out here for one or one hundred minutes—either way, they were soaked. Fuck, did they leave the windows down in the car?

“This is—” Dirk’s voice was faint over the whistling wind. “It’s okay, Todd, it’s—it’s just rain, right?”

Todd felt an irrevocable frustration building inside of him, swirling higher and higher with each drop that battered his skin, each gust of wind that blew past him.

“Todd?” Dirk said.

Todd whirled around to face Dirk. “Goddammit, Dirk! You couldn’t think of checking the weather?”

Dirk looked frozen, shocked still, and Todd felt his irritation spill over and amplify. There was a part of him that wriggled and whispered to him it wasn’t either of their faults, that a little rain never hurt anybody—but it was drowned out by the storm.

Todd swept a hand all around them. “I never wanted to come here. I never wanted any of this!”

“You think I do?” Dirk said, his voice suddenly so quiet it was barely legible over the growing storm, but somehow so loud, carrying so much, dangerously soft, that Todd’s words were halted on the spot. Or maybe that was just from the look on Dirk’s face.

Dirk’s head was down, eyes turned to his feet, lips pressed together tightly and hands wrung out in front of him. Rain accumulated in his hair and dripped down from darkened tips in front of his face, falling onto the dirt on the forest floor in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Dirk said again. He wouldn’t meet Todd’s eyes. “I didn’t think it would rain. I should’ve checked.” He raised his chin defiantly. “But you're just using it as an excuse, to, to not be happy. To turn this into another incident to fuel your inexplicable _hate _towards trying anything remotely fun. Zachariah _assigned _you to me, Todd, and I enjoy making people happy, and I would not be against this assignment have you not be so furiously against it. You won’t even give me a chance.” He pressed his lips together, trembling just the slightest.

Todd felt something in his chest twinge. Something drained away, leaving him feeling defeated. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know. I’m shit at this; I really am. I just—I don’t know, Dirk. What am I supposed to even do?”

Dirk’s mouth twisted into a sad little smile that Todd thought should never, e _ver _be seen on his face. It was just inherently _wrong. _“Maybe if you stopped rejecting every single one of my attempts to make you happy.”

“Dirk,” Todd said desperately, anger disappearing as quickly as it came, leaving him with nothing but a faint burning in his chest.

“I just—” Dirk’s voice came stumbling, sporadic, his eyes softening and growing brighter with sincerity. “I like you, Todd. You’re funny and you’re considerate—er, when you want to be—but, frankly, your negativity is astounding.”

“Thanks,” Todd said dryly.

“I mean it.” Dirk shook his head, flinging water droplets in Todd’s direction. “You have to try, Todd. Please stop making this so much harder for both of us.”

“I know,” Todd admitted. “I’m sorry. I—there’s something wrong with me, Dirk. I know I’ve been an asshole. I’ll—I’ll try harder.” At this point, he couldn't even remember what he had been angry for. He shut his eyes against the storm and felt loathing, heavy and thick, settle deep inside of him. The rain continued to pound, the sky groaning in its torrential downpour.

“Todd,” he heard Dirk say, after moments and moments had passed. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t ask me that,” Todd mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because—just because,” he managed awkwardly, wiping water from his face. “Let’s keep moving.” He shoved an impatient hand through his hair, uselessly wringing out the water, and then pushed past Dirk, suddenly determined. He took a few steps (grimacing at the squelch in his shoes) before turning around to face Dirk, who was still standing there, looking dazed.

Todd raised his eyebrows expectantly and tried for a flaunting smile. When Dirk didn’t react, he let it sink back down, show a softer, more genuine side. “You said to try,” he said. “This is me, trying.”

He turned around and began working his way up the wet, muddy path. After a few moments, he heard Dirk follow.

The rain pummeled down, unrelenting. It was raining so hard at one point that it seemed to pour from the sky in thick, heavy sheets, buckets and buckets sloughing from the heavens. The wind screamed in his ears, sending goosebumps up his arms.

Todd let out a quiet grunt as he hoisted himself up a fallen log, one foot after the other. He turned, and saw that Dirk had fallen a bit behind. 

“Hey, Dirk,” he called out. “You doing alright?”

Dirk raised his head, water trickling down his face. “I’m alright,” he said, but Todd could hear the heaviness of his breaths through his words. He frowned, suddenly remembering that Dirk was an angel. There was no way he was used to physical exhaustion. Upon giving him a closer look, Todd saw that Dirk was also shivering. There wasn’t cold or rain or mud in heaven, a voice inside of him said, and felt a pang of guilt in his chest for being so inconsiderate.

He held out a hand to Dirk and helped him over the log, their hands cold and slip-sliding together. 

“You doin’ alright?” he said.

“I’m fine,” Dirk said. “Why?”

Todd glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, it’s just that—you can’t be comfortable, Dirk. There’s no way you’re used to any of this.”

Right on cue, a gust of wind blew past them, chilling the water covering their bodies. Dirk wrapped his arms around himself and blinked water from his eyelashes, shivering. “I’ll be okay,” he said.

Todd pursed his lips, made a split-second decision, and stripped off his black jacket. He held it out towards Dirk. “Here, wear this.”

Dirk’s eyes were wide as they looked at the jacket and then back at him. “Todd, I can’t—then _you’ll _be cold.”

“Nah,” Todd said, shrugging. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got a good tolerance. Better than you, anyways.”

Dirk blinked up at Todd like a befuddled owl. “You’re giving me your jacket?” he asked.

Todd rolled his eyes and took a step closer, physically opening the jacket and wrapping it around Dirk’s shoulders. He stepped back and watched as Dirk froze completely (save for the uncontrollable tiny tremors running through him and, yeah, Todd made the right choice) with a bit of a lost look on his face. He looked a bit like a cheap edgy superhero.

“Put the damn jacket on, Dirk,” Todd said. Dirk put it on and immediately seemed to relax, the tension dropping from his shoulders.

Todd smiled and studied Dirk. He had already been wearing a blue jacket beforehand, so the black bulged and stretched a little where it overlapped in the layers. He looked good in it, even dripping pitifully and soaking wet—water droplets rolling from his face and hair into his neck where it dipped low into his clavicle, trailed even lower, and disappeared into the collar of Todd’s jacket.

Dirk moved, and Todd’s eyes quickly flicked back up. He was smiling, soft and sweet. “Thank you, Todd.”

Abruptly, Todd felt a stirring in his chest and a warming in his cheeks, and immediately turned, slamming his mind in a u-turn away from the one-way street it so desperately seemed to be careening towards. “Don’t mention it,” he said quickly, suddenly grateful for the icy water on his face. “C’mon, let’s keep walking. We’re nearly there.”

_Nearly there _turned out to be around another fifteen minutes, which passed shockingly quickly. The sound of the rain, steady and smooth, felt like a constant drum beat in the back of his mind. The trees, the winding path, the shrubs and wet grass that tickled their ankles, all blended together with the minutes as they worked their way deeper and deeper into the forest, gradually climbing the hill until they finally made it to the top. It was so gradual, in fact, that it was only when Dirk pointed it out that Todd noticed that the trees had all but disappeared.

“We’re here,” he had said, and Todd looked up all around him and took in his surroundings, feeling like he had been blind for the past fifteen minutes, vision a blur of green and grey. He looked behind him and saw the treeline dwindling all the way to the clearing they were now standing in. He looked back and saw a wooden signpost standing next to a row of flat-top boulders with bold black letters that read PRIMROSE PEAK.

He turned his gaze to Dirk, then, who was standing and fiddling with his fingers and tapping his toe and darting his gaze back and forth. It made Todd tired just looking at him.

Todd said, “What?”

Dirk snapped his eyes over. “How did you know I had something to say?”

“You look like you’re going to explode. What is it?” Watching Dirk, with such enthusiasm and endless delight, sparked something in Todd that made him smile in a way he couldn't remember ever doing.

Dirk squirmed on his feet, jitterbugging, and then his face exploded into a beam. “You look _happy,” _he chirped, and before Todd could constitute a proper response to that, he grabbed the sleeve of Todd’s shirt and started tugging. “Come on, let’s go sit down,” he said, and Todd let himself be dragged along until they reached the boulders.

He looked down and across, at the rows upon rows of endless forest and pine, at the winding roads and twisted highways to the left of that, at rivers and streams and an oblong lake, shimmering with the ripples of the rain. Where the horizon met the sky, the cityline stretched, jagged and sharp, before it faded and was replaced by faraway mountains and lakes that blended into a murky grey like an artist’s used water.

He felt movement next to him, and from his peripheral vision saw that Dirk had sat down onto one of the boulders. Todd followed suit, without a word.

How long they sat there for, Todd couldn’t say. They sat and waited and watched, time a lost and forgotten concept, until the sky ran out of rain, until the wind gave up on the two of them and gentled into a light caress, until the dark and weary clouds cleared and the sun began to shine weakly, the world bathed in a hazy, golden glow. All around them, the birds began to chirp, tentatively, wary of the terrible, whirling fury that had been cast down from up above.

“Wow,” he heard Dirk say next to him, speaking for the first time since what felt like long, long ago, his voice hushed, careful to break the ethereal glow that had surrounded them both.

Todd closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of fresh grass and dew, feeling the forest coming back to life all around them, survivors stirring after a fierce battle in the sky.

-+-+-+-

He had thought he had finally broken through Todd's thick, stubborn skull that day on the hill, with the rain that turned out to be surprisingly beautiful and the equally gorgeous view, the weight of Todd’s black jacket hugging his arms. But he should’ve known better: if there’s anything he’d learned from his years of observations and weeks of firsthand experience, humans were like one of those Russian Dolls, and when you finally got to cracking open the smallest doll there was an onion waiting, happily with its thousands of thin, papery layers of repression, where getting to the root would no doubt be a grueling and arduous task.

It was so frustrating: every time he thought he’d broken through, that he finally, finally gotten it into Todd that he could be happy, that it was okay—Todd would darken, camera shutter over his features, and turn away with thinned lips and a persistent line above his brow that Dirk ached to smooth over. And the worst part of it all was, Dirk knew why—Amanda had told him as much. Todd’s guilt over Amanda’s Pararibulitis, their parents’ money eaten up by college funds. It wasn’t his fault, but from what Dirk’s learned from Todd, he’d much rather be the guilt-ridden bearer of bad news than the bitter acceptor of a cruel turn of events. But he couldn’t just go out and _say _it, could he? No, it would be much more effective for Todd to tell him himself. Except he wasn’t. Telling him, that was.

Dirk hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but at this point it seemed mandatory to address the elephant in the room. And to do that, he needed to be subtle. He needed to coax it out of Todd. Like a… snake. Out of its nest. Something like that. He was never good at analogies.

He would admit that he could’ve been more smooth in his approach.

“Tell me about Amanda,” he said one morning, apropos of nothing.

Todd barely flinched, cup of coffee halting halfway to his mouth before continuing its approach.

“Uh, she’s my little sister,” he said. “She’s in uni studying Psychology.”

“Tell me more,” Dirk pressed. “What is she like? Why did she pray for you? Is _she _happy?”

Todd took a long draw from his coffee before sighing. “I dunno, man.” (Dirk paid special attention to the fact that he wouldn’t meet his eyes.) “Who knows why Amanda does half the stuff she does? She probably did it for shits and giggles.”

“That’s not what she said in the voice call,” Dirk approached.

“Jesus, Dirk,” Todd said, voice suddenly hard. “I don’t know. Whatever. Maybe she just—decided to do it in a burst of sibling affection. What the hell. It doesn’t matter; you’re here now, aren’t you?”

Dirk suffocated a sigh inside of his chest. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, and risked a glance at Todd, whose face had rapidly clouded over in an all-too-familiar look of tight lips and furrowed forehead. Damn.

He changed the subject quickly. “Todd, can we get a puppy?”

Todd blinked. “What? Why? No!”

Dirk pouted, half to keep Todd moving from the previous topic and half out of genuine disappointment. “Why not? It’s been scientifically proven that having a pet can greatly raise the owner’s happiness levels. There’s even therapy based off of it, and certain hospitals and retirement homes have even begun offering programs with pets for people to have company with.”

“This isn’t a hospital,” Todd said.

_“Todd,” _Dirk whined.

“Dirk,” Todd warned. “If you get a puppy and it pees all over the carpet, my happiness levels will significantly decrease.”

“Hmph,” Dirk said, and then, “Hmm.” Perhaps he could potty-train it.

Todd took a swig of his coffee and thudded it down on his desk with an air of finality. “Dirk, we are not getting a puppy.”

“But Todd—”

“No.”

“But what if—”

“Dirk, please.”

“Todd, _please?”_

A tendril of amusement flickered into Todd’s voice. “No!”

Things dissolved into banter soon enough, and by the end of it Todd had gone back to his usual relaxed state, soft smile occasionally flitting across his face as he finished his breakfast. 

Dirk watched him with mixed emotions swirling in his chest: a strange kind of exasperated fondness and frustration. Sure, he seemed happy _now, _but he had long since learned the difference between a moment of smiles and a lifetime of happiness, the latter of which was steadily sounding more and more difficult, near impossible, to achieve. He made a frustrated noise in his throat. Why was it _so goddamn hard _to get Todd to open up?

(They would never know: if it was a coincidence, if Zachariah got tired of the back-and-forths and finally got involved, if Todd’s subconscious had decided to give him a nudge, but it happened that very night.)

Todd felt like he had shouted for hours by the time he woke up, throat sandpaper-dry and the texture of gravel, mouth tasting like old copper pennies. For a moment, he was still save for his heaving chest, eyelids fluttering in the muted blue-black darkness.

He pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets, hard, feeling the ache in the back of his head, and then threw the thin, damp blanket off of him, the echoes of the nightmare tearing at his consciousness in dark flickering shadows at the corners of the room.

“Shit,” he breathed out, voice hoarse and sandy in the air.

This time, it had been barbed wire, wrapped around and around like strangling vines, thorns like knives into his skin. Even before he had known it was a dream, he had known it wasn’t real. But that was the thing about Pararibulitis: it didn’t matter.

When Amanda used to talk to him about it (before the guilt had gotten too much to handle and he shut off any conversation that drifted to the topic) she had compared it to sleep paralysis. Todd had agreed, then, even though he had no true idea if it was true, and not just because he’d never had sleep paralysis before, but because he’d never had Pararibulitis itself to begin with. Except now, his subconsciousness seemed to have continuously latched itself onto the idea, and reared its ugly head at night when his walls were down. The blood had dissolved along with the dream, but his skin still stung where the barbs had dug in, clean and sharp pinpricks scuttling across his bare arms, sending goosebumps shivering up.

It was early enough to fall back asleep had he wished to, but the thought didn’t sound very alluring at the moment. Todd swung his feet off the edge of the bed and let his head hang, his eyes tightly shut, still breathing heavily. He pressed a hand to his forehead, grimacing at the cold sweat, and then ran it through his hair.

Why did Dirk have to bring up Amanda? It had almost been a full week without an interrupted night’s sleep—but then again, the guilt came accumulating, bit by bit, and without these nightly occurrences to keep him in check, he was sure it would crush him one day.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to regain his bearings, and then pushed himself off the bed and walked out of his room that all of a sudden felt suffocating, walls closing in on him, lungs crumpling under the pressure of everything built up and held inside.

-+-+-+-

When Dirk woke up, he quickly realized two things. One, that there was no tantalizing smell of pancakes or eggs or bacon or whatever Todd had whipped up every morning. Two, that Todd was sitting at the kitchen table, facing the window with his laptop in front of him but closed, no food in sight save for a mug of coffee. 

“Good morning, Todd!” Dirk called out, deciding not to question the lack of food. Maybe it was finally his turn. He’d been aching to make those cookies again since the last time they’d turned into black rocks. Cookies were breakfast foods, right?

Slowly, Todd turned to him. Dirk nearly stopped straight in his tracks.

And a third thing: Todd looked absolutely exhausted.

Todd yawned, and tried for a smile that looked like a grimace. “‘Mornin’,” he muttered. His eyes were dark and downcast. Something twinged in Dirk’s chest at the sight, something bitter and sharp and hurting.

“Are you okay?” Dirk asked, even though he thought the answer was a fairly obvious no.

“Huh?” Todd said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Dirk said without thinking.

“Thanks,” Todd snarked.

“Todd,” Dirk said, serious. “What happened?”

Something flashed on Todd’s face for a split second before it was smoothed over. “Nothing happened, Dirk,” he said.

Dirk studied Todd’s face—his dark circles, highlighted by a shaky pallor, the deep etched worry lines in his forehead—and felt a surge of frustration. Was Todd some sort of masochist? Did he not trust Dirk enough to tell him whatever was so huge, so terrible, that he lost sleep over it?

“Tell me. Please?” He tried to pour comfort into his tone, transmit it through wide, earnest eyes, conveying the message that, whatever it was, it was going to be okay.

Todd looked away from Dirk’s gaze and cleared his throat. “Really, Dirk,” he said. “It’s not a big deal. I, I had a nightmare, is all.”

“Oh,” Dirk said, surprised. Todd didn’t seem the type to get nightmares. But then he thought about what Amanda had said, and remembered how reluctant Todd was for Dirk to stay, how much he thought he didn’t deserve to be happy, and then reconsidered. He shifted a little on his feet. “Would you like to talk about it?” he approached carefully.

“I think I’d rather chew off my own foot,” Todd said blandly, bone-dry. Dirk winced at the thought, and that made Todd crack a smile.

“You couldn’t fall back asleep afterwards?” Dirk said instead, trying to nudge some information out of Todd nonetheless.

“More like I didn’t want to,” Todd said, “but yeah.”

“And when was this?”

“Uh.” Todd shrugged. “I dunno. A couple hours ago?”

“A couple as in…”

“Just a few.”

“A few as in…”

“Jesus,” Todd said, “what’s with the third degree?” 

That pretty much gave Dirk the answer he was looking for. “You should go back to bed,” he said. “You look exhausted.”

“What else is new?”

Dirk felt his frown deepen. He wondered if the nightmares were recurring. Based on the way Todd waved his concern away as if it were nothing, the answer to that question was probably the one he wasn’t hoping for it to be.

“Oh, shit,” Todd suddenly said, drawing Dirk from his thoughts. “I forgot to make breakfast. Sorry, I can start on something quick.”

Dirk felt his mouth drop open as he watched Todd begin to stand up. 

“Todd,” he said incredulously. “This isn’t—you don’t have to make _breakfast!”_

Todd rolled his eyes. “I’m not a goddamn invalid, Dirk. It was a nightmare. Nine-year olds get them.”

Dirk felt the ridiculous urge to laugh and tried not to punch Todd. Or strangle him. Or hug him to death. Or… something. 

“No,” he said, some of that feeling overwhelming him and spilling over. “This isn’t about the nightmare. This is about the fact that you’ve been treating yourself like—like _shit, _since the day I’ve met you!”

“Hey, hold on,” Todd said, sensing Dirk’s vexation, “I’m treating myself perfectly fine—”

“No, you haven’t!” Dirk shouted. “Is this what you call taking care of yourself? Waking up at four in the morning?”

“Look here,” Todd said, voice suddenly cold, “Don’t you tell me how I should take care of myself.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you actually _did _at all!”

“I can take perfectly good fucking care of myself, Dirk—”

“No, you _can’t—”_

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m _fine, _stop being such a pain in the ass about this—”

“You’re _not,” _Dirk shouted. “I’ve been trying _so hard, _but—but there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, there is,” Todd cut in, so casual Dirk nearly missed it in his onslaught. “And if you knew about it you would leave right this instant, fly back to heaven, and never look back.” He raised his eyebrows. “You wanna know? Want me to tell you, so that you have an excuse to leave? Is that it?”

And things had been going so well. Todd had almost managed to convince even himself. He should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Maybe Dirk could just mark this… what was it? Task? Assignment? as failed, and move on. 

He opened his mouth again, about to suggest it, when he caught sight of Dirk’s face. The words died in his throat.

Dirk was crying. Dirk, who was constantly over the fucking moon, with his splitting grins and infectious wide smile and too-loud, hysterical laughs. The sight was such a shock that Todd felt himself immediately crumple.

“Hey, hey,” he said, everything else forgotten save for the fact that Dirk, _Dirk Gently, _had tear tracks trailing down his cheeks where they weren’t ever supposed to fall. “Dirk. C’mon, hey, it’s okay,” he said nonsensically. He reached out a hand, almost giving into the near-overwhelming urge, before drawing it back at the last second.

Dirk made an indistinguishable sound. He was never one to do things by halves, and crying seemed to be no exception; he was snowballing to the point of no return, hyperventilating in a way that flashed him back to a hot summer night in his car just a few short weeks ago, when everything seemed overly bright and fresh and brand fucking new, an real-life angel in his backseat.

“Oh, god,” Todd said, “Dirk, I— _goddammit. _Hold on, I’ll get you a glass of water, okay? Please? Just—I’ll be right back.”

He nearly tripped over the table leg in his haste, filling the first cup he could get his hands on and hurrying back to where Dirk was still standing, shoulders jerking and chest heaving and making those small gasping noises that made Todd’s chest twist like someone stuck a rusty knife into his ribs.

Dirk took the glass with shaking fingers and tipped it back. The instant he drained the glass, Todd took it from his hands and placed it onto the table, pushing it into the middle so that it wouldn’t accidentally be pushed off the table. Dirk was still heaving for air, his face wet and blotchy. It sent something tearing in Todd’s chest, and before he could think he had reached out, placing a hand on Dirk’s cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured, wiping away the tears with his thumb with a gently stroking motion. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“But _you’re _not,” Dirk said, sounding increasingly distressed.

The all-too-familiar protest was right on Todd’s lips, when Dirk suddenly moved.

Quickly, before Todd could react, Dirk reached out his arms and pulled himself of his own accord into Todd’s chest. His arms wrapped around his waist before he could react, tight as a vise.

Todd’s breathing went shallow and he felt himself tense the same instant that yearning inside of him grew to a desperately unavoidable thing, pulling him towards Dirk like a puppeteer with a string.

“Please,” Dirk mumbled into Todd’s shirt, his voice quiet and rough. “Please, just—” He shifted to press himself closer, crowding their bodies flush together, chest to chest, a single meshed line. He was almost unnaturally warm, radiating heat from where they touched. 

Todd needed to stop, to back away, he wasn’t allowed to have this—but the tugging grew to a slow and steady burn and he felt himself give up and give in, the tension in his muscles going lax as he let himself do what he’d been wanting to do for so long, what he’d kept himself from doing for so long; he gathered Dirk in his arms and held him close. One hand went up to softly stroke his hair while the other rubbed circles on his back. God, Dirk felt so small, thin, fragile, like this in his arms. Todd's chest surged, and he tightened his hold and felt Dirk sigh and fall lax.

“Why do you do it?” It was Dirk who spoke up first after what felt like hours of comfort, silence save for the sounds of the two of them breathing in sync.

Unknowingly, Todd tightened his arms. “Do what?”

Dirk shifted slightly. “Not… not let yourself be happy. Stopping yourself just when you’re starting to get better.”

“If I told you—”

“I wouldn’t care,” Dirk interrupted, and he sounded so sure that Todd was nearly swayed for a moment. “I wouldn’t care, Todd. I promise, whatever it is.”

Todd pressed his lips together and rested his temple on the side of Dirk’s head. He smelled like the shampoo in Todd’s shower, blended with a fresh summery scent that immediately reminded Todd so much of Dirk that it nearly bowled him over. He splayed his fingers across Dirk’s back, felt sharp, jutting shoulder blades, and imagined wings.

“Todd?” Dirk’s voice was hesitant.

And for one insane moment, Todd considered it. Considered opening his mouth and letting the truth spill out, the one burning himself up from the inside out in billowing black flames of guilt.

But then he imagined Dirk’s face turning ashen, stumbling back and pushing him away. Dirk was so caring, so compassionate, all the fucking time. If he knew what Todd had done—Todd felt his mouth go dry.

“God, Dirk,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

What was he even doing? This wouldn’t change anything. In fact, it made things worse. Dirk had _cried _for him. He wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes again without feeling like he was rotting on the inside.

With that thought, he quickly began to withdraw, but Dirk clung on tighter and refused, latching on like a limpet. He rubbed his nose into the junction of Todd's shoulder and chest, sending a dozen pleasant shivery frisions down his spine.

“Whatever it is,” Dirk said, “it's keeping you from being happy.”

“I know,” Todd said.

There was a pause, then, a soft, finalizing sigh from Dirk.

“I know about the Pararibulitis,” Dirk said.

“Amanda talked to me.” The words tumbled down now that the beginnings had slipped like rocks down an unscalable cliff, unable to reel back any longer. “That morning, during the video call. She told me about the—the disease, how you used to have it. How you used up your parents' savings before Amanda.” 

Dirk took in a shuddering breath, heart pounding. “But, Todd—it's not your fault. God, Todd, it's not. You have to know that, to stop—stop punishing yourself for something that you had no control over.”

He loosened his arms and backed away enough to see Todd's face. Todd was shaky, pale, features greyed out and hazy.

“You have to let it go,” Dirk begged.

He watched Todd, searching desperately for some sort of reaction. But all he saw was a pale, trembling mask.

“I,” Todd started. His voice was so low it rumbled in Dirk's chest. He dropped his arms, stumbled back. “I have to go.”

Dirk felt his heart sink. “Todd, please.”

Todd shook his head, a twitch that escalated into a violent shake. “No,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Fuck, Dirk, you—I have to go.” He took a step back, one that Dirk made up with a step of his own.

“Talk to me, Todd,” Dirk begged. “What’s going on? Is it—is there something you’re not telling me?” A flash of understanding. “Am I wrong? Is Amanda wrong? Is there something you didn’t tell Amanda?”

Todd ran a hand roughly through his hair and backed away. “Goddamnit, Dirk, I’m— _fuck!” _He was against the door, now, and in a flurry of motion he whirled around and slammed his fist up against the drywall.

“Todd!” Dirk hurried to reach him.

Todd pointed a finger at him. “Don’t,” he said, dangerously soft. “Don’t.”

Dirk held his hands up placatingly. “Okay, Todd,” he said, lowering his voice until he was speaking softly, gently, like to a wounded animal. “I won’t. Just let me talk to you?”

Dirk could see the wild look in his eyes spreading like a forest fire. “No,” Todd said. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Todd put his hand on the doorknob, turned. “I just—I need some time alone. I’m going out.”

“Talk to me,” Dirk pleaded.

Todd hesitated, but then set his jaw and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Dirk,” he said. “I just need to go.”

Right as he was about to walk away, Dirk blurted, “Wait!”

Todd turned.

“You’ll be back?” Dirk said, making sure to meet Todd’s eyes. “Todd, I don’t know what’s going on. I won’t force you to do anything, but if you’re going to go out at this time… stay safe. Please. And come back when you’re ready.”

Todd pursed his lips and nodded, a sharp jerk of his chin. Then, he closed the door and disappeared.

-+-+-+-

When Todd returned, his eyes were dark, the uneven gait of his steps heavy and gunshot-loud in the echoing, all-consuming silence of the flat. He hung up his coat and toed off his shoes, and then slowly and carefully walked until he was a metre away from Dirk. Dirk could smell, faintly, alcohol; bitter and boozy.

“I’ve done things,” Todd said, his voice rough. “When I was younger.”

He took a deep breath, looked down at white-knuckled fists, and began. “I never had Pararibulitis.”

“I grew up expecting to be a single child. My parents decided to have Amanda when I was seven. Before then, I had been… coddled. Spoiled within an inch of my life. I wanted everything, I got it all. I never liked Amanda because she took the attention away, and when I went off to college it only got worse. I was one of those people who never had to work hard in high school and got good grades anyway, and college was like a slap in the face.

“My family always had a history of Pararibulitis. That was part of the reason I grew up so spoiled: they treated me like that because they didn’t know if, one day, I’d suddenly wake up feeling like I was being stabbed, or burned, or skinned alive. I couldn’t get that thought out of my mind. I was dangerously close to dropping out, I couldn’t bother getting a job, and the money piled up, and one day I just called up my parents and told them that I had my first attack that afternoon.

“A few months before I was supposed to graduate, Amanda got Pararibulitis. We couldn't afford the medication because my parents had used up all their savings on _me. _Once that happens—it’s like your world ends. There’s nothing, _nothing, _that’s ever come close to the way I felt when I got the call.” 

He shook his head and laughed, rancid. “So when you told me that Amanda told you what she thought was the truth, when I realized the only reason you’re here is because you thought I had some fucking martyr survivor guilt complex, I. I just can’t handle it.”

For a moment, Dirk couldn't speak, jaw slack with shock and bewilderment. “My God, Todd,” was what he finally came up with. “Why haven’t you told them?”

“What’s the point? It’s not like I can change the past.” He twisted his mouth into a determined grimace. “So that’s why I don’t want you here. Because you don’t deserve having to put up with someone like me, and I don’t deserve this prayer. Amanda shouldn’t have called you here, angel or not.”

“No,” Dirk said, after a pause.

Todd raised his eyes slowly.

Dirk shook his head. “If you’re already doing the best you can to make up for what you did, why are you still lying to Amanda?”

“Because I don’t want her to hate me,” Todd said blandly.

“So you’re lying to her, and then trying to make it up by lying to her _more?”_

“When you put it like that,” Todd said, sounding pained, “I just―God, Dirk, I _can’t. _I’m selfish. I can’t do it because I’m a selfish fucking asshole, and I’m too much of a coward to face what I did. You happy with that?"

Dirk paused, and then lowered his voice so that Todd needed to lean closer in order to hear.

“Ever since I met you, you’ve been nothing but giving. You offered to sleep on the couch for me to take the bed. You make me breakfast every single morning without me asking for it.” He looked at Todd, earnest and solemn. “No matter what’s happening, your first instinct is to protect the people around you. You’re not selfish, Todd; quite the opposite, in fact. It doesn’t matter what you did, it matters what you _do. _You need to stop basing yourself off of who you were in the past.

“It’s easy to be an asshole. Impossibly easy, actually. It’s even easier to be an asshole, and then go, ‘Oh, but I’m an asshole’, and put it off. You’re using it as an excuse, Todd, and that’s so much worse than if you came clean.”

“You’re right,” Todd said, after a pause. Quietly, plaintively. “I’m scared.”

“And that’s perfectly okay. As long as you understand that making excuses for yourself won’t get you anywhere, it’s alright to be scared.”

“How do I tell her?” Todd whispered. “How do I tell her something like this?”

“I have faith in you,” Dirk said.

“Fuck,” Todd breathed, and buried his face into his hands. “She’s gonna fuckin’ hate me, Dirk. Never gonna talk to me again.”

Dirk tilted his head. “I’ve been observing Earth for years and years, and one thing I’ve noticed consistently is the resilience of your kind. The ability to forgive. Impressions always tend to swing towards the negative, and you never truly realize how little you actually know someone.”

“You know,” Todd said, muffled through his palms, “you can get incredibly introspective when you want to be.”

Dirk smiled. “Case in point.”

Todd dropped his hands and looked at Dirk, something in his eyes that shone and shimmered. “Thanks, Dirk.” He breathed out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “She has her final exams on Friday. I’m supposed to be driving off to visit her over the weekend. I’ll tell her then. Will you come with me?”

“Of course, Todd.”

Todd looked visibly relieved. “Thanks, man. And―thanks for, y’know. Not. Not hating me.”

Dirk tilted his head. “Why would I hate you?” he asked, perplexed.

“You’re too positive, Dirk,” Todd said ruefully. “You see too much of the good in people and not enough of the bad.”

“Funny—I think the opposite of you.” Dirk shrugged. “You seem incredulous that I can accept what you’ve done so easily, but the thing is, Todd, no one is as good as they make themselves to be. And that’s okay.”

Todd breathed out, a heated exhale, and stood up. “Okay. I’m gonna go get some sleep. ‘Night, Dirk.”

“Goodnight, Todd.”

On his way past Dirk, Todd stopped in his steps. For a moment, he simply hovered behind Dirk, his presence like a shadow. Then, abruptly, he leaned down and hugged Dirk from behind.

“Thank you,” Todd mumbled, briefly tilting his head so that his chin rested against Dirk’s shoulder. His body heat seemed to pulse out in waves on his exposed skin on the back of his neck.

It was the first time that he had initiated any form of contact without prompting.

Dirk was so quietly stunned that he didn’t respond at all until Todd drew back, evidently flustered, and left the room with no more than a mumbled farewell.

Dirk turned his head to watch his retreat and felt the lingering warmth like a sun-kissed patch of air on his skin. He smiled. They were finally making some progress.

* * *

**Part Three ** _(don't worry about a thing and lay your head by mine tonight)_

“Dirk, it’s a three hour drive. You don’t need eight pairs of socks.”

Dirk hugged the handful of colourful bundles of soft, fuzzy fabric close to his chest and looked up at Todd pleadingly. “I _do!” _

“You already have way too much stuff,” Todd informed him. “You definitely don’t.”

Dirk raised a protesting finger. “But what if the socks I’m wearing right now get wet?”

“You’re gonna be in the car the whole drive.”

“But what if I need to go to the washroom and the floor is wet?”

“Then bring _one _extra pair.”

“But what if I need to go to the washroom again and the floor is wet again?”

“Then bring two pairs.”

“But what if I need to go to the washroom _again _and—”

“You won’t have to piss eight times in three hours.”

“But what if I _do?”_

“Seriously, Dirk?” Todd said.

“My bladder is very small,” Dirk supplied helpfully.

“Jesus Christ,” Todd said.

Dirk widened his eyes into a look that he’d used way too often for it to be as effective as it was. “Please?”

“Dirk…” Todd pulled a face and looked away. Dirk, noting the waver in resolve, immediately dialed the look up to a ten.

“Please, Todd? Please? I’ll even let you wear one. Look, Todd, they’re _owl _socks! Owls!” He shook one of the bundles in Todd’s face. “Please? Please please please please?”

“Fine!” Todd yelled, mostly just to get the stupid socks out of his face.

Dirk immediately cut off mid- _please, _breaking into a splitting smile. “Thank you!” He shoved the owl socks towards Todd. “Take these.”

“I don’t want them,” Todd said blandly. Dirk’s jaw dropped.

“Who doesn’t want owl socks?” he said, bewildered.

“Me,” Todd said, pushing back Dirk’s outstretched hands with both of his. “Keep ‘em. All… all eight of them,” he muttered, “what the hell.”

Dirk brightened and beamed and darted off to shove eight pairs of socks into his already-bulging backpack.

Not even ten minutes into the drive, Dirk began to fidget. Todd ignored this for another five minutes until Dirk was fidgeting so much he was very nearly squirming off the seat and then said impatiently, “Dirk, what do you want?”

“I need to use the restroom,” Dirk said, having the decently to look a little abashed.

Todd closed his eyes for a moment before remembering he was driving. He reopened his eyes and stared at the road ahead instead in mild despair and miserable acceptance. “You said you didn’t need to go.”

“I didn’t then,” Dirk said. “I do now.”

Todd sighed and pulled them into a gas station. They needed to top up anyway.

“Todd! Todd Todd Todd!” Dirk nearly fell out of the window craning his head. He twisted to get an arm out the window with and jabbed a finger towards a farm field to the left. “Look! Horses!”

Todd risked a glance to the left, where there were three or four dark brown horses bent over, chewing on grass. One of them was lying down in the grass and appeared to be either passed out or sleeping.

“Cool,” Todd said.

_“I know, right?” _Dirk said, with considerably more enthusiasm than Todd. “Can we go pet them? Please please?”

It was worth mentioning that, at this point in time, they had already passed the ranch by a good mile. Also, they were in the middle of a highway being herded by a dozen other cars front and back. Also, there was no possible way they would get over the electrical fencing surrounding the sought-after mammals.

“Sorry, Dirk,” Todd said, and Dirk’s face fell like a kicked puppy. “It’s too late now.”

Dirk sighed, long and loud and deliberate. For someone who was decades old, maybe more, he was a real toddler sometimes. (He never actually asked how old Dirk was, now that he thought about it. He looked relatively young, though, and Todd had a suspicion he didn’t ask because if he suddenly found out Dirk was thousands of years old, that would just be… weird. Man, _really _weird.)

“We can visit the zoo or something later,” Todd submitted, if only to see Dirk’s face pick up and split into a grin that looked suspiciously smug, the face of someone who knew what they want and knew they’d be able to get it.

Dirk opened his mouth to say something else, but it was cut off by a loud gasp and a grunt as he bodily maneuvered himself halfway out the window. The car behind them honked. Todd’s fingers twitched anxiously on the steering wheel.

“Todd, look! There’s a waterpark!”

Todd sighed and reached for the radio, thinking of the best way to let him down easily for what would undoubtedly be dozens of tourist trap encounters for the rest of their drive.

They’d stopped for gas (plus another, inevitable bathroom break for Dirk—it was like he sprung a leak or something) about an hour and stocked up on chips, pop, jerky, and various unhealthy snacks, and neither of them felt particularly hungry for dinner after loads of junk washed down with sugary energy drinks, so Todd kept driving.

When they finally reached Amanda’s college (five pit-stops, four cow/horse/sheep sightings, and an incident with a truck driver that Todd would be telling at parties for the rest of his life later―seriously, Dirk was so good at making friends it was completely ridiculous), the sun was just creeping towards the edge of the horizon, barely dipping into the ground, the air bathed in a hazy golden glow. Todd sent off a text to Amanda signifying their arrival as they began making their way to the restaurant near the college buildings where they’d decided to meet.

His anxiety rose higher and higher until he was nearly chewing on his nails, thumb tapping against each of his fingers in sequence from index to pinky, back and forth and back again. By the time they reached the doors of the restaurant, Todd was very nearly contemplating turning around and heading back. How the hell was he supposed to tell Amanda? He’d been lying about this for so long, had suppressed and shoved and stuffed it down so deeply that just _thinking _about it, not to mention thinking about telling someone about it, not to mention thinking about telling _Amanda _about it, out of all people—the thought was outrageous and downright terrifying.

A light touch on his arm yanked him from swirling thoughts and he flinched, jerked violently.

“Todd,” Dirk said, into his ear. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe.”

Todd clenched his jaw. He sucked in a huge breath, forced himself to hold it for three seconds, and then let it out in a thin stream like the hissing of a balloon.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

Dirk gave him an encouraging smile. There was so much pure conviction there that Todd could almost believe it.

He took another deep breath and opened the door, scanning the rows upon rows of tables until his eyes caught on his sister. Amanda was sitting near the back. As they neared, she noticed and glanced up. Her eyes widened and her face broke into a smile.

“Todd! Hey, man!”

“Hey, Amanda,” Todd said, smiling back. He sat down, sliding into the chair nearest to the wall, while Dirk plopped himself down next to him.

Amanda turned her eyes to Dirk with a spark of recognition in her eyes, opening her mouth.

“Hi!” Dirk said, before she could say anything to him. “I’m Dirk. You know that already, do you? I always introduce myself twice just in case they’ve forgotten my name since the first time around, it makes for a lot less embarrassment on both sides.” He extended a hand and, when Amanda returned it, shook it vigorously. “I _love _your eyeliner,” he added.

Amanda blinked and laughed a little. “Thanks.” She brushed her hair back from her face, touching her eyelids as she did so. “So you’re Dirk Gently. The angel.”

“That’s me!” Dirk bounced in his seat and beamed happily.

Amanda laughed again. “Wow. Todd wasn’t exaggerating when he said you were like a hyperactive puppy.”

Dirk’s head tilted to the left— _exactly _like a puppy, mind you. “He said that?”

Amanda gave Todd a squinty-eyed stare of suspicion, and then a gleam came into her eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Todd talks about you _all the time.”_

Dirk turned to Todd, eyes wide. “You do?”

“What? No!” Todd yelped.

“He totally does,” Amanda told Dirk. “Dirk this, Dirk that. Dirk woke me up at five in the morning to show me a cat video. Dirk told me the worst pun today. Dirk’s _soooo—”_

“Okay, that’s enough!” Todd said, and intercepted a passing waitress.

Amanda raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. Dirk, not even bothering to pretend to be interested in the waitress poised with her notepad ready to take his order, looked at Todd with a worried stare and asked him, “You talk to Amanda about me?”

“No,” Todd said.

“Yeah,” Amanda said, and winked. “Don’t worry. All good things.”

“Oh,” Dirk said, the concern melting off his face and revealing a bright smile. “Okay.”

“I’d like the club sandwich, please,” Todd said to the waitress, and then leaned back and listened as Dirk spiralled off into a near-obsessive poring over of every item on the menu, bombarding the waitress with questions about the type of meat, the method of cooking, and the general level of spiciness of the Mexican skewers in Scoville Heat Units, feeling a little bit of his nervousness diminish as the familiarity settled into his bones. 

So maybe he was afraid of confrontation, but he could say that at least a part of this was because he had a nagging suspicion that, despite what Dirk said, no matter how forgiving people were, after he told Amanda the truth, he wouldn’t be seeing that open, friendly smile on her for a very long time.

After dinner, Amanda cornered Todd.

“Yo, Dirk,” she said to Dirk as they headed towards the exit. “You go on ahead. I just need to talk to Todd for a moment.”

“Oh,” Dirk said. “Okay.” He flicked his eyes to Todd, widening them just a bit.

Todd nodded slightly. Dirk gave him a final, reassuring smile.

The instant Dirk left, Todd felt the anxiety settle into his bones, a bittersweet familiarity, as if Dirk had been the one keeping it at bay. He shoved it down as far as he could, plastered on his best smile, and turned towards Amanda. “Hey,” he said, achingly casual. “What’s up?”

Amanda crossed her arms. “Dirk.”

“Dirk…?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Todd. I’m not fucking blind. You’re, like, basically in love with the guy. Angel. Whatever.”

Todd almost fell over. He got as far as stumbling back hastily, then scrubbing a hand over his face. “What?! No! Amanda, are you crazy?”

Amanda gave him her no-bullshit look. “Todd, look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t attracted to him.”

Todd looked Amanda in the eye, took a deep breath—and then let it out in a sigh. “Look, Amanda…”

“No, you _Look, Todd,” _Amanda said forcibly. “Dirk’s been… _good _for you.” She sighed. “Seriously. I can… see it, surprisingly. You’ve been happier since you’ve met him.” 

“Well, that’s what he’s here for,” Todd muttered sardonically.

Amanda shot him a look, eyebrows furrowed and mouth frowning, the face of disapproval. “Dude. That’s what I’m talking about. Why are you acting like this?”

“Acting like what?” Todd said, automatically defensive. 

“Like you’re…” Amanda flailed a haphazard hand towards him, gesturing vaguely. “Like you’re just _so unfortunate _to have your own personal angel whose single literal job is to make you happy.”

Todd snorted. “Right,” he muttered, sarcasm tethering on the edge of bitterness.

“No, that’s it, right there.” Amanda’s voice turned accusatory. “Seriously, what is going on? It’s like you’re—I thought you’d be _glad. _I wouldn’t have asked for it otherwise.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have,” Todd said sharply.

“Jesus Christ, Todd.” Amanda let loose a laugh that Todd recognized far too well, had done the exact same thing before, harsh to conceal the hurt. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Todd shot.

“No,” Amanda said, her voice dropping, face darkening. “Okay, you know what, this isn’t even a new thing. I wasn’t going to bring it up, but I guess I have to. You’ve always acted so—so _weird,_Todd, ever since I—”

“Don’t,” Todd said. “Please, Amanda, just—” He shoved a hand through his hair, gritted his teeth; now that he actually had to do it he realized just how much he wasn’t ready, just how much he had underestimated how much it was going to hurt.

“What? Don’t say it? Why not?” Amanda said, sounding headstrong and furious, in the tone of voice that Todd understood meant she wasn’t going to live it down, was going to push and push and push without fearing why she had to push so hard, no thought of consequences, all cards on the table. “What is it about my Pararibulitis that gets you so worked up?” Teeth snapping, seething in the face of silence. “Yeah, _Pararibulitis. _I can say it just fine. What’s your problem? You don’t even have it anymore!”

“I never had it at all,” Todd said.

Amanda took in a sharp breath, and then froze.

Todd felt something inside him crack like a dropped mirror. His voice was null, devoid of tone. “I didn’t have Pararibulitis. I made it up to get the money.”

Before Amanda could react, could respond, Todd turned and walked away. It seemed like he was always doing that these days.

-+-+-+-

Dirk watched through the window, heart in his throat, as they bore down—Amanda taking steps closer, Todd’s shaking frame—and then as Todd’s head dropped and Amanda froze to a halt, utterly still.

Todd walked away before she could react. Strides uneven and haltering, stuttering movement, oddly mechanical, detached. He came towards Dirk. His face was barren—Dirk already had enough trouble deciphering the amalgam of emotions on a normal day, and this made it absolutely impossible to tell what he was feeling.

“Todd?” he blurted the instant the door opened, unable to contain himself. “Are you alright? Did you…”

Todd held up a hand. Something on his face flashed across, stark and crisply visible for one sharp second before it was smoothed over—Dirk caught exhaustion, grief, something akin to bitterness, and his words trailed away.

“Not now, Dirk,” Todd said. His voice was quiet with an underlying buzz, barely held in. He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a card. “We passed a hotel a few blocks away—you remember it, yeah?” At Dirk’s nod, he passed the card in his hands to him—his credit card. “Get us a room.”

Dirk took the card automatically, then stared at it for a moment before looking back up at Todd. “What about you?” he asked hesitantly.

Todd tightened his lips, another whisper-fine tremor running through him. “I need some time alone,” he said after a while. “Don’t wait up.”

Dirk pursed his lips. “Todd… you know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, Dirk, I know,” Todd said, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I just—” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I just need some time,” he repeated, and suddenly Dirk blinked and resurveyed his features and he looked so _tired _all of a sudden, shoulders on the verge of collapsing, eyes downcast and dark. “Just some time,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” Dirk said, not bothering to hide his reluctance, but just now realizing how much Todd truly needed this. “Stay safe,” he added, because although he could accept Todd’s need to be alone and to think things through, he didn’t want to underestimate Todd’s ability to be heedlessly and endlessly self-destructive any more than he already had.

Todd nodded sharply once, and then left in the opposite direction from whence they came.

Dirk watched with growing worry. He had known previously that the reaction from Amanda was undetermined, unpredictable—but Todd hadn’t even waited to see it before clambering back into his shell and leaving her to her own conclusions, leaving himself to his own pessimistic expectations. He couldn’t interfere with something like this, he knew—this went far beyond his ability and his right to cut in. This was intertwined between the two of them far longer than he’d been here for, and needed to be settled with as little outside influence as possible. He had pushed, but he could only provide the momentum—the rest was up to Todd.

Todd couldn’t see the people he was walking past, a blur of cream-coloured nothingness, floating away in a chatter of voices and meaningless noise. He couldn’t tell where he was going, only that he needed to get away, away, it didn’t matter where as long as it wasn’t _here._

He didn’t realize until it was too late—that the people around him had slowly dwindled off one by one until he was alone, and even then he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared even if he had noticed, had kept dragging his feet one step after the other in a ceaseless walk.

When the blow came, sudden and straight and clean-cut right to the back of his head, he didn’t even have time to open his mouth to cry out before the graffiti-covered alley walls faded to black.

Dirk had just managed to figure out how to unlock the door and collapsed on the bed after trudging up six flights of stairs due to a broken elevator when the phone in his pocket buzzed insistently. He fished it out, turned it on, and then stared.

A campus map with a little red dot. The message was sent along with a blurred, shaky picture of a man whom, despite the terrible quality, was unmistakably Todd.

Dirk stared at his phone for a very long time, and then said out loud to an empty room, "Oh, dear."

Todd had to hand it to tree-huggers. Bark was a lot scratchier than you’d think, and eons more uncomfortable. Or maybe that was just extenuating circumstances.

“You touch me and I'll bite your fingers off,” he said.

The woman tittered. “Don't be so dramatic.” Her voice had a strange melodic lilt, some flirting accent Todd couldn't quite place, something that sounded almost unearthly, ethereal. In any other possible situation, he would’ve been charmed.

“Nah,” Todd said. “You're a proper lady. Why don't you untie me and we can both sit down and have a cup of tea?”

“Certainly,” the woman replied. “As soon as your friend arrives, we can have all the tea you want. Earl Grey, Mint Lavender, Chai…” Her voice trailed to the extent where mockery and honesty were blurred, a pencil line smudged over with a sweaty thumb. Todd concluded that this lady was at least a little bit insane. She had that glint in her eye, that spark of mad scientist, a tone in her mannerisms that implied she could not see the sheer wrongness of—well, of kidnapping, blackmail, and discussing how someone who was currently tied up and used as bait liked to take their tea.

“What do you want with Dirk?” Todd asked, crossing his fingers in the hopes that dramatic, time-killing monologuing came with the mad scientist/villain trope.

She frowned. “Dirk… Gosh, I can't imagine why he's taken to calling himself that _awful _name.”

“That's not his real name?” Todd said, and had a fleeting second of _I fucking knew it._

The woman smiled secretively. “Your friend has more secrets than you’d think.”

“Really?” Todd widened his eyes, feeling a trickle of justification fuel his confidence. “Try me.”

The woman tittered. “I know what you’re thinking, and unfortunately, that isn’t it. No one has just _one _secret now, do we?”

“Where’d you get that line from?” Todd muttered. _“Some _shitty B-lists you’ve been watching.”

“He’s really a dear, isn’t he?” The woman ignored Todd’s comment. “So sweet, and so clueless. A true _angel.”_

Todd’s eyes snapped up at that. So she did know. “What do you want with an angel?”

A wistful tone crept into her voice. “I've spent my whole life chasing after them. Researching. Soaking up knowledge. Oh, the things I learned… the things I _can _learn.” Her voice dropped low, and the spark in her eyes grew to a near-maniacal glint. Todd concluded that she was most definitely a few screws short of a toolbox.

“So, what?” he asked. “You want Dirk so you can experiment on him? Tests?”

“Now you’re getting it,” the woman sounded pleased. “Don't worry, I won't hurt him. I just want to finish my report. Conduct some experiments.” The word sent a flicker of concern down Todd’s spine.

“Dirk won’t come,” Todd said. “He’s smarter than that.”

“Oh, honey.” The pet name dripped off her voice, silky sweet. “We both know that’s a lie. He’s gotten, well. Attached, hmm? That poor angel would do just short of anything to make you happy.”

Todd made an incredulous noise, throwing his head back and barking out a laugh. “It was a fucking _assignment. _He’s literally being forced to be here.”

The women raised an eyebrow, her eyes suddenly fixed on a spot behind him. “Oh, is he?”

Todd struggled to turn his head, failed, and thunked the back of his head against the tree trunk in frustration.

“Goddammit, Dirk,” he groaned.

“She’s right, Todd,” Dirk said from behind him. “This assignment may have been forcibly assigned to me, but even if I had the choice, I would choose to stay.”

Dirk appeared in Todd’s peripheral vision, then sharpened as he moved further into his field of view. He was looking straight at the woman, his face more serious than Todd had ever seen it, with a dark glimmer that sent a frisson down his spine.

The woman tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Icarus,” she purred.

“That isn’t my name,” Dirk said.

The woman had a knife-edged smile. “Yes, I remember. Svlad, was it?”

Dirk’s face hardened. Todd looked between the two of them with a rising realization that their paths had entwined before, that there was something going on that he had not yet grasped.

“Apparently you go by _Dirk _now, though,” the woman continued. “How distasteful. Surely you could’ve come up with something better than that?”

“I dunno, think you could’ve done better?” Todd yelled, mostly just to piss off the lady. And to keep them talking. He had almost managed to slip the rope from his wrists, chafed and scratched.

Ignoring him completely, the woman turned to Dirk. “No offense meant, dear,” she soothed. “After you come with me, you can call yourself anything you want.”

“Dirk, listen to me,” Todd said, deadly serious. “Call the police, right now.”

The woman pursed her lips, finally acknowledging him. “And tell them what? That he’s an _angel?”_

“That you’ve fucking tied me to a fucking tree and blackmailed Dirk into coming here, that’s what!” Todd snapped.

“Oh, dear,” the woman said, sounding sickly sympathetic. “You don’t understand the half of it. Stay out of it.” She turned to Dirk. “I trust you’re smarter than him? You know what I’m asking for.”

“I…” Dirk’s eyes met Todd’s, flickering. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You’ll let Todd go?”

“You have my word.”

Todd had no clue what was happening but he was so fucking close, the rope at its last frayed strands. He thumped his head against the tree truck in sheer frustration. “Dirk, hold on. Hold on, man. Just gimme a moment, Jesus Christ.”

The woman tilted her head at Todd. “I don’t think so,” she said. “We wouldn’t want you to make your way out of those ropes, do we?”

Todd couldn’t tell how it happened. He was sure, absolutely positive, that her hands had been empty. But one moment passed, and the next she had something in her hands.

It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—a cross between a shotgun rifle and a toy water gun. There was something strange about it: the more Todd tried to see it more clearly, to examine the details, the more he realized that he _couldn’t. _The edges were rubbed out and hazy, almost glowing—it was oddly familiar, niggling at the edges of his mind, but before he could recall what exactly it was, three things happened so flush next to each other that they seemed to occur simultaneously.

One: she pointed the gadget towards Dirk. Her arm jerked in the telltale motion of a trigger being pulled.

Two: Todd felt the remnants of his rope fall to the ground, but he could only watch in horror as the first event unfolded the instant he was loose.

Three: there was a brilliant flash of light, searing his vision from the outside in, so bright it seemed to blur out the whole world, leaving nothing but a hazy, ringing sound that filled his mind as his vision went white. 

-+-+-+-

Despite not having taken any more sugar than his usual intake, Dirk felt as if he was on a sugar high. And not a very pleasant one. What was typically a light heady sensation, giving the edges of his mind a light coating of fuzz, currently that light coating of fuzz felt more like a massive swarm of bees cheerfully chainsawing at his skull with 100-grit sandpaper.

He grimaced and raised one hand to rub at his temples. He’d ask Todd for some of that strange pink stuff that helped with headaches when they got home, as soon as he got him freed from the tree and away from the crazy witch lady. Wait.

Dirk sucked in a gasp as the past few moments suddenly smashed back into recollection, with none too much grace and consideration for his delicate state of being. He flinched violently and his hands flew up to uselessly cover himself from the impending ray of power that would inevitably hit his wing— _not again, _he thought desperately, and waited for the pain to come.

A moment passed. Nothing happened. Dirk slowly lowered his hands from his face. 

He blinked at the figure in front of him. Stunned.

“Zachariah?” he whispered.

Zachariah smiled. “Hello, Dirk.”

“Oh, dear,” Dirk breathed. “I’ve gone and made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

He didn’t need Zachariah to respond to know that it was true. He _had _had a plan. Or, he thought he did. Right up until he got shot.

In hindsight, he should’ve known better—should’ve known it wasn’t possible to escape from what had been so deeply intertwined and ingrained into his upbringing, the shadows of his past never cleared to oblivion.

“Todd,” he said urgently. “Is he okay?” It didn’t matter what happened to him, now, even if he had been captured again; Todd had to be okay, Todd _needed _to be okay.

“Todd is alright,” was the reply, and Dirk felt himself sag with relief.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I arrived just in time for your wings to not become permanently damaged,” Zachariah responded. “They have, however, received substantial harm. Your grace has been severely depleted. Currently you are appearing in an unconscious state in the physical plane.”

“Zachariah…” Dirk hunched over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—to—” To what? To put Todd in danger? To call upon Zachariah for help? To stumble upon and re-earth what had been so desperately destroyed? He couldn’t find the words.

“It’s all quite alright,” Zachariah responded soothingly. “Remember what we say around here?”

“Everything is connected,” Dirk breathed. “You mean… you’re saying that… Was all of this planned?”

“Not planned, no,” Zachariah corrected. “Everything that has happened brought you here, and exactly here. It had been a brilliant turn of events that had led to all of this, all of which was not necessarily predestined, but merely plotted and paved out, ready for you to follow. You are but a leaf in the stream of creation. Everything happens for a reason, and you are, always, in the right place at the right time.”

“Oh,” Dirk said softly. “But I… what about Blackwing? And everything I did—”

“The past is insubstantial,” Zachariah said firmly. “It may influence events of today, but it is your choices now that affect the events of tomorrow. Blackwing has been contained and reported, and will no longer be your worries. Currently, your focus is still on Todd Brotzman.”

“Oh,” Dirk said again.

“We’ve been watching you, and I must say, I’m incredibly impressed by the progress you’ve made so far.” There was a strange little look on Zachariah’s face, an enigmatic ghost of a smile. “Would you say your assignment will be successful?”

Dirk hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Todd is… difficult. I can’t seem to get a hold of his emotions—especially happiness.”

“Hmm,” Zachariah said. “You know of human emotions, yes?”

“Of course,” Dirk said, feeling a flutter rise in his chest just at the mention. “It’s _amazing, _the sheer amount human beings can feel. Did you know it transcends into visceral and physical reactions? The body gets so overwhelmed with the chemicals that it interprets them into bodily functions. It’s so much more than what angels can feel, Zachariah, it’s utterly fascinating.”

“And what of happiness do you know?” Zachariah asked.

“Well—” Dirk hesitated. “Happiness is… hard to explain. In the scientific aspect, it all boils down to brain chemicals and neurotransmitters. However, the actual reasoning behind it is incredibly complex, and varies infinitesimally depending on the person.”

“What about love?”

Dirk froze. “Love?”

Zachariah fixed Dirk with a steel-eyed stare. “Widely regarded as the most potent human emotion of all. What do you know of love, Dirk?”

“Ah—” Dirk fought the urge to fidget, to fiddle with his fingers. “Love is similar to happiness, but on a much stronger level. I have yet to experience it.”

“And what does Todd know about love?”

“I’m—I’m not sure,” Dirk admitted.

“Hmm,” Zachariah said. He tilted his head to one side. “You are waking up in your physical form. I must be leaving, now.”

“Wait!” Dirk squeaked. 

Zachariah stilled.

“Before you leave, could you please—tell me what to do?” he begged. Things couldn't be worse. Amanda was hurt and betrayed, Todd was devastated, and Dirk was the dreadful intermediary who had brought all this to fruition.

“I will offer you one piece of advice,” Zachariah, and paused. “In a way, I have given you an incompletable assignment.”

“What?” Dirk squeaked.

“Emotions are complex,” Zachariah said. “You cannot have one without the other. I suppose it could be said that Todd Brotzman will never be truly, purely happy, and the assignment will never be successful. However, that may just be the thing that he needs.”

The last thing Dirk glimpsed was that smile again, soft and enigmatic, before things faded into a deep, hazy black.

-+-+-+-

Dirk was woken by an incessant ramming that felt like a trigger-happy construction worker with too much freedom pounding away on a jackhammer against the lining his skull.

He groaned softly.

“You’re awake,” a voice said next to him.

Dirk cracked his eyes open reluctantly, lolling his head to the left.

“Todd,” he said, words a dazed, stunned murmur on his lips. He tried to sit up. The movement sent a shooting pain through his shoulder blades—no, his _wings— _and he gasped. Fear shot through him with the thought that Todd could _see _them—he turned his head, bracing himself for the sight—felt relief flood through him like springwater when all he saw was tartan-red wallpaper.

Tartan-red wallpaper?

He brought his eyes back to the front and scanned the room. An oaken bedside table, a battered grey chair. Motel room, his mind supplied. (Why? Where?)

“You’re awake,” the voice said again. Dirk blinked and focused his eyes on Todd, then did a double-take.

“You look awful,” was the first thing he said.

Todd looked stunned for a second, and then he huffed out a laugh.

“You’re one to talk,” he said. 

“Sorry,” Dirk said, still feeling wildly disorientated.

Todd sighed. “I’ll get you a glass of water,” he said, and got up from his chair and exited the room.

In an effort to bring himself back to the present, Dirk drew his mind all the way back to the events of the afternoon, the evening, rewound and replayed, and by the time he was aware of Todd’s footsteps approaching again, he was fully awake with the overwhelming flood of remembrance of what had happened.

Todd reentered the room, holding a glass of water in one hand and a silvery pack of pills in the other.

“Oh, hi,” Dirk said stupidly.

“Hey, Dirk,” Todd said. “How you feeling, buddy?”

“Like a bunch of construction workers are jackhammering on my skull,” Dirk replied matter-of-factly.

Todd winced. He placed the glass of water on the counter and broke the seal off of the packet. He removed a tiny white capsule with one hand, picked up the glass of water in the other, and thrust both towards Dirk.

“Tylenol,” he commanded.

“Oh,” Dirk said. “I…” He moved a hand from under his blankets to take it, and hissed at the sharp lance of pain. His wing, unseen but not unfelt, flexed and quivered with protest.

“Shit,” Todd said. “Don’t move.” He paused for a moment, considering, and then in a sudden move brought his hand up higher, closer, and then pushed the pill past Dirk’s lips—which almost immediately fell slack with surprise.

His thumb brushed over his mouth, pressing lightly, before retreating.

Dirk swallowed the pill instinctively in shock, and stared at Todd.

“Not a word,” Todd muttered, looking away. There was a light flush starting on his face. “You said angels heal quickly, I’m taking your word on that.”

“I should be fully healed in just a couple more hours,” Dirk said. He gingerly bent a wing, feeling the throbbing shoot through it, slightly dulled now.

“Good,” Todd said. “So does that mean we can talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Dirk said.

“You know what,” Todd said. “Dirk, what the hell was that? That woman—she knew you.”

It hit him, then, that Todd knew. Or—he was going to know, there wasn’t any possible way he was getting out of this one. “Oh, dear,” he said weakly.

“Dirk, tell me what’s going on.” A warning edge to his tone like the blade of a knife.

Dirk closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, found it impossible. His head was a malstrom, a mess, a hurricane of thoughts building up. His breath came quick and stuttered

“Dirk!” He felt a hand close around his right shoulder. “Dirk, open your eyes.” 

He opened his eyes. Todd’s eyes stared back, blazing bright blue like a bolt of lightning.

“Calm down, Dirk,” Todd said. “Breathe. Talk to me. Whatever it is, we’re gonna figure it out, okay?”

Dirk swallowed hard, fighting back a surge of panic. He was going to be okay.

“Okay,” he said, his voice sounding like gravel, a long-winding hysteria trailing from it all. “Okay. I’m okay.” He repeated the phrase in his head over and over, as if saying it enough times would make it real.

“Good,” Todd said. “Now, tell me what’s going on.” His voice was cautious, overly casual, careful not to break the tripwire of Dirk’s panic.

“Okay,” Dirk voiced aloud. “I…” Closing his eyes, he mumbled, “Give me a moment.”

He leaned back, still deliberately taking in deep breaths, trying to gather enough courage to summon up what he was about to do.

His eyes were already closed, and it was only a matter of settling his mind deeper into his body, letting it relax and flow out, and reaching towards the soft, constant glow of power in the back of his mind. He tugged at it gently, coaxing it out.

He heard Todd suck in a ragged gasp. “Dirk—”

Dirk adjusted his wings and created a barrier between the planes, suspending them in their physical form. It took little more than a few nudges, and then he unfolded them, fully corporeal and solid and as real as could be.

Todd clambered off the bed and stood in front of Dirk, swaying on his feet, eyes wide as saucers.

Dirk let his wings drift of their own command and felt them twitch with anxiety, battering against the bedspread, a corner fluttering and twisting over and around itself again and again, the same way he fiddled with his thumb when he was nervous.

“A few decades ago,” he said, his voice pitched low with barely-hidden terror, “I was captured by a group called Blackwing.”

Todd didn’t say anything. Dirk kept talking, words spilling over, tied on a chain with a dropped anchor and sinking deeper, deeper.

“Blackwing was a facility. An organization, of sorts. They captured supernatural beings, primarily angels, and performed— _tests _, experiments—on them. Angels usually spend our time in Heaven, but occasionally some of us will descend to Earth for assignments or entertainment or stuff of the sort. That’s how I got caught. I was warned as a child, but I never followed the rules much, and I paid the price.” He felt sickness rising up in him, a long-settled bile twisting up to meet him head-on. He blinked back a surge of stinging eyes. “My enforcer was the woman you saw back there in the forest.” He felt a tremor of suppressed fear crawl up his spine.

“It was only out of sheer luck that I was able to escape.” His wings came around himself, wrapped around him like a hug that was neither comforting nor warm. The feathers felt scratchy, like jagged pinpricks against his skin. He hugged them in tight anyways, clinging to the feeling like a reminder.

“Is that why your wings are black?” Todd asked, his voice hushed, like he was afraid to speak. “Did she do that to you? Some kind of—fucking sick joke with Blackwing?”

Dirk tried to explain. “More like the procedure created the name than the other way around. Her experiments damaged them. I don’t know exactly what she did, but…. Zachariah healed me to the best of his abilities, but my wings couldn’t be fixed.” He bent one, feeling the phantom agony flare up from what felt like so long ago creeping back into his bones. He swallowed, looking at the jet-black feathers, and spoke in a whisper. “They used to be beautiful.”

“Dirk,” Todd said, and his hand came up to touch the tip of a feather. Dirk flinched, and he immediately withdrew. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just—they _are _beautiful, Dirk.”

Dirk shook his head in frantic jerks, barely listening, too wound up in his own rising thoughts. “I thought she must’ve forgotten by now. I thought she must be gone by now. I thought she wouldn’t recognize me. I should’ve known better, I…” He felt his heartbeat thud in his ears, rabbit-quick and only getting faster.

Todd watched him for a moment, breathing heavily, and then something seemed to snap. He inhaled sharply and then, in a flash, bent down to reach around Dirk and pulled him into an embrace.

“God, Dirk,” he whispered. “I never knew.” A tremor ran through him, and he hugged Dirk tighter, melding them together as tightly as he could.

Dirk couldn’t remember the beginning of their conversation, where it had gone, which twisted path it took for both of them to spiral down. He took a shuddering breath and wrapped his arms, his wings, around Todd, craving the comfort and closeness he’d been reaching for to no avail since the very first day they’d met. He felt the man’s shoulders shake, jerking as he tried to hide them. He couldn’t tell which one of them was comforting the other—perhaps there wasn’t one or the other, but merely a give and take, push and pull.

“You’ll be okay,” Todd said fiercely, over and over. “You’re gonna be okay.” Dirk couldn’t tell to whom he was saying it to; Dirk or himself. His mind was reeling; information swirling in a tsunami in his headspace. He clung back like he was drowning.

Dirk was the first to disengage, his mind slowly becoming overtaken by questions and inquiries, too insistent to ignore.

“Wait,” he said. “What happened after I. Um.”

“After you passed out?” Todd said wryly. “Well. You came looking for me. The lady said a bunch of crazy talk, and then aimed a gun at you. And then—uh—I dunno, actually. Just—crazy bright light all around. When I could see again, she was gone, and you were unconscious.” He looked away, and, incredibly, a blush rose on his cheeks. “I mean, kinda. You were, uh. Semi-conscious, I guess. Mumbling and stuff.”

“Oh,” Dirk said. “What did I say?”

The blush intensified. “Nothin’ important,” Todd muttered, still not meeting Dirk’s eyes.

“Todd,” Dirk whined.

“Trust me, Dirk,” Todd said, “you don’t want me to tell you.”

“What does that mean?” Dirk complained. “Obviously I do want you to tell me!”

“Not if you knew what you want me to tell you,” Todd replied.

“How do you know that I don’t know what I want you to tell me if I don’t know what I want you to tell me?” Dirk asked.

Todd said, “How do I—what?” and threw his arms up in the air. “Okay, whatever. I’ll fucking tell you.”

Dirk beamed, and waited.

“You, uh.” Todd shoved a hand through his hair. “Said some shit about my eyes.”

Dirk’s beam turned querulous. “I what?”

“Goddamnit, Dirk,” Todd said. “Can we just drop it?”

Oh dear. “What did I say?” Dirk asked, dreading the answer.

Todd flushed, and that pretty much answered Dirk’s question for him. “You were basically high, man, it’s whatever,” he mumbled.

“Oh, dear,” Dirk said under his breath. Todd finally looked up, smirking a little.

“Told you,” he said, eyes crinkling cheerfully at the corners.

His eyes… what could Dirk had said about his eyes? One hell of a lot, that’s what. His wings battered anxiously against the headboard.

Todd’s eyes tracked them, his fingers twitching where they lay on the side of the bed.

“You can touch them,” Dirk blurted. “I mean. If you want.”

“What?” Todd said. “No, I. I mean. Really?”

Dirk nodded.

“Nah,” Todd fumbled, his eyes following his wings in a way that contradicted his words. “I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable,” he elaborated.

Dirk sighed and unfurled a wing, curling it towards Todd. “I said it was okay, Todd. I would’ve said no if it wasn’t.” After a moment of thought, he shifted until he was facing the far wall, his back towards Todd, who was standing at the edge of the bed. His wings spread to almost their full span, an obvious invitation.

“I,” Todd said, already reaching out a hand to trail fingertips down the edge of the feathers. “Wow, okay,” he said, almost as an afterthought. Slowly, his touch grew more confident, searching, curiosity overtaking courteousness. Dirk felt his feathers ruffle at the warm touch. Todd made a small fascinated noise and Dirk felt the bed dip as Todd sank down onto it, legs tucked beneath him on the bed.

He began at the end of the wing, brushing the very tips gently, feeling his way down. He dug his fingers in, lightly combing and straightening out the occasional crooked feather. When his fingers caught on a tangle. Dirk’s slight wince made them immediately loosen, softly stroke along the grain with soothing apology. “Sorry,” Todd said, and started to draw back.

“No, don’t,” Dirk said, feeling too dazed to bother censoring his words nor actions, as he felt his wing naturally arch towards Todd’s hand as it attempted to make its retreat. “It’s good,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Todd said, hesitantly reapproaching. Dirk felt a frisson of purring contentment, instinctive and ingrained, run its way down his spine as the soft touches began once more.

“You’re helping a lot, actually,” he admitted. “I haven’t taken care of my wings in a while. Perhaps more than what is wise; they’re quite neglected.”

He heard a soft snort from Todd. “Yeah, they’re pretty messy. If only you took as much care of your feathers as you did your hair.”

His feathers stiffened at that. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothin’. Just that it seems to be taking attention away from these bad boys.” To demonstrate what he was saying, Todd tugged lightly on the tip of a feather. 

“I know,” Dirk said, pouting even though Todd couldn’t see, feeling guilt wash through him.

Suddenly, Todd chuckled.

“What?” Dirk asked.

Todd brushed a hand down the centre of Dirk’s back, between his joints. “Your wings, man. They’re tells.”

Dirk frowned. “Tells?”

“Yup. When you’re happy, they ruffle. When you’re guilty, they droop. When you’re confused—like right now—they float around and drift all dazed and stuff.” To demonstrate his point, Todd swirled a hand in the air that Dirk saw in his peripheral vision. “It’s adorable.”

A pause. “And when you’re embarrassed, they get all fluttery.” Dirk could hear Todd’s smirk through his voice, and it only served to make his wings even more ‘fluttery’, as Todd so eloquently put it as such.

“They’re beautiful,” Todd added, and Dirk felt Todd’s words justified as his wings curled bashfully. “Why didn’t you ever take them out before?”

“I was afraid you’d see,” Dirk responded.

The fingers slowed before resuming. “What? Why?”

“Because.” _Because you’d ask about them. _And then he’d have to lie, or tell the truth, and both of those choices seemed daunting and insurmountable tasks. Except now he’d gone and done the latter without even meaning to all that much.

Todd seemed to understand. He huffed lightly, breath tickling the back of Dirk’s neck.

“An angel’s wings are considered an organ to us,” Dirk explained. “Perhaps even more important than one. They are the source from which we draw our grace—our power. Often, stories tell of angels flying to Heaven, and that’s no coincidence—our wings are the link between Earth and Heaven. But they’re also the most vulnerable part of an angel.”

Todd’s voice was quiet, like Dirk’s; hushed as if he feared to break the spiderweb-thin tension of this moment that had formed without neither of them meaning to. “How did Blackwing do it? I thought they couldn’t be seen or felt.”

“They can’t. They shouldn’t be able to. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, I don’t know why, but they developed this weapon.” Dirk wet his lips and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Somehow, it can cross from the physical plane and injure our wings.”

“And, what, no one does anything about this up there? They just let it happen?”

Dirk thinned his mouth into a grim line. “Heaven is… difficult. Complicated beyond that of which you could think. Imagine Earth and the billions of humans living in it, and then multiply that by ten. Angel disappearances are too common for this to take enough attention for the higher powers to do anything about.” He rolled his shoulders a bit, trying to relax them. “The only reason I was saved was because of Zachariah.”

“That’s bullshit,” Todd said.

Dirk shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Also bullshit,” Todd said flatly. “But whatever, I guess.”

Dirk twisted his head around to study him, noting the sluggish slump of his shoulders, the heaviness of his stance. “When was the last time you slept?”

Todd shook his head and barked out a laugh. “Can’t remember. Everything’s been such a mess.” He shook his head once, violently, a sharp jerk of his neck. He seemed world-weary, worn-out, exhaustion tugging at the corners of his eyes.

Dirk pursed his lips with concern. “You need to rest.”

Todd rolled his eyes—red-rimmed with deep dark shadows in the delicate skin underneath. “I’m fine, Dirk. Don’t mother-hen me, that’s my job.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Dirk. “Do you need anything? Water? Food? I can make something, if you want.”

_“Todd,” _Dirk said, making a face, not bothering to cover the immense annoyance in his voice.

Todd blinked, startled. “What?”

“Go sleep.” Dirk tried to make his voice as non-negotiable as possible. “Seriously, Todd.”

Todd opened his mouth to protest, but halfway through his words turned into a yawn. Dirk widened his eyes in a _See? _gesture.

“I’m fine,” Todd argued.

Dirk’s wings were always braver than the rest of him. They swung around, reaching for Todd’s shoulders, and began insistently tugging him towards the bed. Todd stumbled, regaining his footing after a brief scuffle, and looked at Dirk with wide eyes. “What the hell, Dirk?”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Dirk said. “And you need to sleep.”

“What,” Todd said, “like right now?”

“Yes,” Dirk said. “Right now, right here.” He shuffled a bit to the right, towards the wall, leaving a space on the bed.

Todd raised an eyebrow at it. “I’m not easy, you know. You haven’t even bought me dinner.”

Dirk felt the blush all the way to the tip of his wings. “If I let you out of my sight, you’re just going to keep going on like this,” he defended. “This way, I can be sure you get the rest you need.”

“Seriously?” Todd sounded incredulous. “Dirk, that’s ridiculous.”

Dirk wouldn’t relent. “I’ve been a human for _weeks _and I still know that you’re not getting enough sleep. You look exhausted. Please?” He let his eyes go droopy and pleading in a way that was probably exploiting, but he argued to himself that it was for a good cause.

Todd squirmed, looking away and cursing lightly under his breath. “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered. “At least me get changed first.”

Dirk beamed. Todd gave him one look and shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said when he re-entered the room, clad in a soft flannel shirt and matching pants. He crooked a finger at Dirk. “We don’t talk about this, okay?”

“We’re talking about it right now,” Dirk said.

Todd twitched the corner of his lips. “Excluding this one time.” He turned off the light, plunging them into darkness.

The sound of soft footsteps traced his path, and Dirk felt something lightly push at his side until he shuffled over obediently. A pause, then the bed dipped and creaked quietly beneath the weight of a second body. The rustling of blankets rose soon after, and when that fell away all that was left was both their breaths. Dirk could feel his warmth leaching through the scarce space between them, could nearly feel the rise of fall of the other’s chest against his back.

“Y’know,” Todd spoke up after minutes of soft, quiet breathing from the both of them. “I should be feeling a lot more overwhelmed about all this than I am.”

“And why aren’t you?” Dirk said, hushed in the darkness.

Pause. “Kinda used to it by now.”

“Oh,” Dirk said. “I suppose that’s a good thing?”

“Is it really?” Dirk imagined he could see Todd’s wry expression. “Are you expecting this kind of thing to happen again in the future?”

“Absolutely,” Dirk replied, honestly.

He could hear Todd’s smile in his voice. “Then it is absolutely a good thing.” A sigh. “Goodnight, Dirk.”

“Goodnight, Todd.”

-+-+-+-

Todd woke to a soft, insistent battering of something soft and silky against his cheek. Frowning with confusion, he slowly opened his eyes only to be greeted by a smattering of black feathers. The events of the past day rushed back and he forced himself to lie still, heartbeat rising little by little until it was pounding against the constricts of his chest, eager to escape. 

Dirk mumbled softly and snuffled. His wings moved, seemingly of their own accord, swaying and twitching and fluttering against where their tips pressed against Todd’s skin, lightly tickling. Todd blew out a soft breath from his nose, part amusement and part fond, and allowed himself to lay there for another minute.

It was hard to believe that it had only been one day. How could the events of one night flip everything on its heels and change everything he had thought was indestructible, insurmountable? The thought of getting back home to his apartment and getting up the next morning to head into another hotel, but this time taking reservations and folding towels instead of chatting up an angel and trying to figure out if he was reading everything wrong or if he was just paranoid, was impossible. Less than twenty-four hours before all this had occurred, trying to wrap his mind around everything with Amanda and Pararibulitis and _Blackwing _and, damn, everyone had their own baggage, but Dirk was carrying a lot more than he’d thought. A dark tendril carrying an iron weight was floating in the buoyant, cluttered space of his thoughts, demanding its attention. It felt simultaneously lighter and altogether heavier than it had ever been. 

A quick shower and a trip out for breakfast for him and Dirk later, he approached this with a careful mind, tentatively prodding. He recalled his earlier panic, the mess in his mind that had swirled and raged, battering his psyche into exhaustion, only relented by his literal capture, which tore all thoughts of what had previously happened out of vicinity in lieu of more pressing manners.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages: nothing from Amanda. Nothing unexpected. Todd sighed, and hovered over the keyboard, only to grit his teeth and place his phone back down on the desk, face down.

Dirk rose to join him after an hour or so, sleepy-eyed and soft, rumpled clothing as he half-tumbled into the chair across from him. With an inexplicable flash of disappointment, Todd noted that his wings had disappeared, tucked back into the unexplainable depths of planes and realities that Dirk had tried on multiple (unsuccessful) occasions to explain.

“Mornin’,” Todd said with a nod, pushing over a cup of chain-store coffee and a bagel wrapped in a paper bag.

Dirk offered up a smile, accompanied by a yawn hidden behind one hand. “Good morning, Todd.”

“How’re you feeling?” Todd asked.

Dirk pursed his lips and rolled his shoulders. “Relatively decent,” he said. “Not unscathed. Not particularly horrible. You?”

“Fine,” Todd replied automatically, and felt his lips twist ruefully at the sharp look Dirk sent him. “A little overwhelmed,” he relented. “But mostly okay.”

Dirk looked satisfied at that, but there was a hidden sheen of hesitation behind his smile. He approached it cautiously, choosing his words carefully. “You’ve—talked to Amanda?”

Todd looked down, feeling inexplicably contrite. “Not yet,” he admitted.

“Todd…”

“I don’t know what to say, okay?” Todd shot out. He ran a hand through unmade hair, yanking at the knots and sending pinpricks of pain through his skull. “I just—it’s been so long, and I never even thought that this would happen, and now that it has I’m just—what the hell do I say to her, Dirk? I can’t just _apologize.”_

“Why can’t you?” Dirk asked.

“Because,” Todd said vehemently. “Because that’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. I can’t even begin to even the scale with something this big.”

Dirk waited until Todd looked up from the table. His eyes were wide and serious. “But it’s a start, isn’t it?” he said. “Is it better to not say anything at all? To run away from what’s wrong? To not even _try?”_

“I…” Feeling helpless, Todd let his hands lay flat on the table, palm pressing against cool, faintly-sticky wood lacquer.

“Todd,” Dirk said, sincerity brimming to the rim, overflowing past his lips. Todd looked at him, and wondered what he did to deserve any of it. “You’re trying. So hard. I can see it, Amanda can see it—but you can’t match penance with punishment. That’s why she prayed for me. You’ve been needlessly harsh on what you no longer have control of: the past.”

“What am I supposed to do instead?” Todd asked.

“Talk to her,” Dirk said. “Tell her the truth.” He held his hands out imploringly, palms up. “Please, Todd.”

Todd chewed on the inside of his mouth and prodded at the tingling, hesitant thing inside his chest. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay, I’ll try.”

The relief was clear on Dirk’s face. He reached his hands forwards and placed them atop of Todd’s on the table, warmth leaching through. “Thank you,” he said.

Todd, without thinking too much about it, flipped his hands over and laced their fingers together on the table. He felt a burst of something warm skitter up his spine at the contact. “Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “it’s what I should do. I’ll visit her after breakfast.”

He squeezed Dirk’s hands, imagining all the purity and goodness, sincerity and love of the angel flowing into him through that one point of contact. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed for forgiveness nonetheless.

“Amanda, please—”

The door remained resolutely, steely, irrevocably, shut.

“I'm sorry,” Todd begged, hands flat against the door as if, if he tried hard enough, he could just push through to the other side.

Silence greeted him like the stony wall in front of him. Todd slammed his eyes shut and squeezed them so tightly he saw spots swirling in the blackness of his vision.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Amanda,” he mumbled, feeling the sharp sting behind his eyes. “Please, let me apologize to you properly.”

He couldn’t’ve expected anything more, really, not with what he had done. He would do anything, _anything, _to take it all back, but there wasn’t a way, now, and he would just have to deal with it and grit his teeth, carry this along like always, but Amanda, oh god, _please… _

He hadn’t realized he was still speaking, hadn’t known how long he’d been mumbling, when a sudden, sharp voice cut him off swiftly from the other side of the door.

_“Leave me alone,” _Amanda’s voice hissed, muffled from the separation of wood.

Todd froze, a frisson running down his spine. “Amanda,” he breathed. “Oh, god, Amanda, please, I’m so sorry, please just let me explain—”

The door slammed open so quickly Todd barely had the time to jerk back, and even still he was a millisecond away from being hit. He stumbled, regained his footing, and stared at Amanda.

Her eyes were blotchy and blazing with anger, her mouth twisted into a bitter snarl.

“Explain what?” she hissed. “That you _lied? _For years and years, fuck, Todd, I thought you—like you were mocking me, all those years—I fucking _looked up to you, _I thought you were helping—_fuck!”_

Amanda whirled in on Todd, seething and spitting, and then she drew back, slamming the door again, this time shut, so quickly Todd didn’t have time to react.

“Don’t,” she said when Todd drew in a breath, dangerously soft-spoken, a stark juxtaposition to her previous outburst. Instead of angry, all of a sudden she just sounded tired. “Just don’t, Todd. Please,” she added, and it was the hint of something desperate in the word that made Todd shut his mouth, words drying up in an instant.

But even still, he held his hand up to the door. Pressed against the wood and shut his eyes hard, shame stinging like gunpowder on his tongue.

“Go,” Amanda said, and then, when Todd didn’t: “Please.”

“Please,” Todd echoed back in the barest of whispers.

When there came no response, he watched his hand trail down the unmarked wood and felt despair settle into his bones like an all-too-familiar guest (should’ve known it wouldn’t last).

_I’m sorry. I need some time alone._

The text message blinked and wavered, letters cloyingly flickering. Todd read it once, then again, and then held the power button on his phone until it shut down.

He felt Dirk’s presence nervously skirting the edges of his peripheral vision, and turned to him without bothering to smear on a smile for effort this time.

“She won’t listen,” he said. “Not that I blame her.”

Dirk pursed his lips. “Todd…”

Todd shook his head sharply, let out an acrid laugh. “You know what the funny thing is? I felt horrible before, but I feel even worse now.” He looked at Dirk imploringly. “Does that make me a shitty person? Even more than before?”

Dirk’s eyes widened, and he responded with a violent shake of his head. “Todd, no! It’s perfectly normal for you to feel like this. Obviously, the way Amanda reacted was… negative. But that’s a given.” He stepped closer and lay a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “She said it herself: she needs time.”

“Time,” Todd repeated dully. The warm, steady pressure of Dirk’s hand felt oddly grounding, tendrils of warmth seeping into his skin through a thin cotton t-shirt. He swallowed, throat rasping with protest, and looked at Dirk with a desperation he felt so strongly he could taste it, sour-scented and scathing. “God, Dirk. I don’t know what to do.”

“Give her time,” Dirk said. 

“But what now?” Todd whispered.

“For now,” Dirk said, “let’s go home.”

“Now?” Todd responded, ludicrous. “After all of this? You want to just go back?”

“What more is there to do?”

Todd found that he couldn’t come up with a response, so he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, rasping. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go home.”

The light of the streetlamps whizzed by one after the other, flickering and flashing through the windows like pale strobe lights at a concert. Todd tolerated the soft rock buzzing from his speakers for a few miles before reaching out and shutting it with a soft click, swallowing the car up in a dark, fuzzy silence, broken only by the steady thrum of three AM traffic. He drove for two hours without stopping, and then pulled over at a field where the criss-cross of the fences shone bright silver, flashing at them until he killed the headlights.

Dirk stumbled out, rubbing his eyes. He had been lightly dozing during the drive, head resting against the glass of the passenger seat window. His hair was rucked up on one side and there was a light indent of the windowpane on his cheek.

“Todd?” he mumbled, coming up next to him. “What’s wrong?”

In response, Todd put an arm around Dirk’s waist and pulled him in close. Dirk stilled, then shivered as he nestled in closer, breath fogging in light puffs in the chilly night air.

Todd tilted his head up and looked up at the wide expanse of stars, vast and endless.

“You know any constellations?” he asked.

“Not really,” Dirk said, sounding mildly perplexed. “Oh! But I used to make up random ones for fun. They change every time. That’s what makes it fun.” 

“Amanda was crazy into constellations,” Todd said. “She tried to teach them to me, star signs and everything. I could never remember any of them.”

“Oh,” Dirk said softly. Tentatively, his fingers seeked the fabric of Todd's shirt, creeping around the back until they lightly rested against Todd's side.

“I’m sorry,” Todd said, without taking his eyes off the sky. He felt Dirk stiffen in confusion.

“For what?”

“For only talking about myself,” Todd answered. He rubbed his thumb along the crease in Dirk’s shoulder and felt the tension seep away. “Everyone has shit on their plate. I was so caught up in my own problems that I forgot to ask about _you.” _

“You don’t have to,” Dirk replied, sounding honest.

“Yeah,” Todd said, “I do.” He darted his eyes towards Dirk, caught the blue-green gleam in the dark. “Are you okay? After—well. Blackwing and all that.”

Dirk looked frozen for a moment, and then his face softened and filled with so much gratitude it glowed soft orange embers in Todd’s chest.

“I’m okay, Todd,” Dirk said, and it sounded like the truth. 

“Okay,” Todd said. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dirk responded softly, brushing his fingers against Todd’s side and huddling in close. Todd felt the thing, that bundle of warmth that had been growing in his chest since the day they met, shiver with anticipation and fleeting, desperate hope.

“Dirk?” he asked, very quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

For a second, Dirk didn’t say anything: his face swept in an unreadable flood, dozens of expressions transpiring in mere moments. Then, he looked at Todd and smiled. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“Been a long time coming,” Todd murmured when they parted, scant millimetres apart, if only to take in a breath.

“Was it?” Dirk said. His voice was hushed and hoarse.

“Since the first time I saw you,” Todd admitted.

Dirk’s smile was splittingly wide, that all-consuming, beaming grin that made it feel like the sun was shining down on both of them at three-thirty in the morning.

“Dirk…” Todd felt as if he had so much to say that the words simply clogged up in his throat, each unrelenting. They struggled and fought until one rose victorious. “You’ve seen how frustrating I can be. After all, you were literally assigned to me, I—I don’t want to pressure you into any of this. Especially because I’m not sure if you’ve completed your assignment, or if you ever can, actually. In the future, the next few days, hell, maybe even hours, I don’t know if I’ll still be happy or not.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to stay, then,” Dirk said slowly, something dawning on his face. _“That’s _what Zachariah meant!”

Todd’s brow furrowed. “You spoke to Zachariah? When?”

Dirk didn’t seem to hear him. “All this time I was aiming for an impossible achievement, when in reality it was unnecessary—in fact, the very pursuit of it hindered the effects. Happiness is fleeting, and that’s what makes it so brilliant in its wake, _Todd, I think I’ve got it!”_

Todd laughed for no other reason but the sheer feeling it stretching his cheeks. When he tucked his face into the crook of Dirk’s neck and breathed the sunshine-scent of him in, he thought he could feel a draping, fuzzy warmth settle around him, soft like television static and buzzing with all the colours of the rainbow, wrapping the two of them together like wings, intertwined.

**Author's Note:**

> The original concept of this AU was inspired by the Destiel fic "The Request" by cloudyjenn. The title and italicized phrases in this fic is from the song Get You High by Harbour.
> 
> This is my first time attempting a project as big as this, as well as my first time participating in a Big Bang, and it was such an amazing experience. Everyone was incredibly welcoming and supportive, and I've learned so much throughout the process. I honestly had so much fun writing in this 'verse, and I might be tinkering with a few more ideas for snippets/extra scenes in the future.
> 
> Many thanks to the brilliantwonderfulfantastic incorrigible_worksop. She has been a shining beacon in my times of self-doubt and frustration. I honestly wouldn't have made it this far without her encouragement and positivity. Love you <3
> 
> My artists were [incorrigible_worksop](https://incorrigible-worksop.tumblr.com/post/186915550355/my-finished-artwork-for-the-dghdabigbang-i-can) and [littlenerdyotaku](https://littlenerdyotaku.tumblr.com/post/186910359590/dghda-big-bang). Both pieces are linked with their usernames, and they are absolutely phenomenal, so you should go check them out RIGHT NOW. GO. 
> 
> If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please let me know—comments give me a Dirk-worthy smile for the entire day and more.


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